The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1890-06-25
A NEW POET.

A long-felt want, as the advertisements
say has been new poet. Tennyson is so
years old, and writes no more. LongfellOw,
Browning and Bryant have been gathered
TO their fathers. The muse which inspired
some of the noblest lyrics of the middle of
the century is hushed. Swinburne is oc-
casionally heard from; he is 80 years of
age, and it is twenty-four years since he
published the famous volume of poems
that set England by the ears. A swarm Of
poets have flashed across the sky since
Tennyson's Dream of Fair Women
thrilled the public ear; but how few sur
we. Does anybody to-day read "FestuS,"
by Philip James Bailey? Or Tupper's
"Proverbial Philosophy? Or the good
Bishop Heber'S psalms about " Greenland'S
ley Mountains"? Or Charles Mackay's
lyrics? Even the "Ingoldsby Legends
and Jean Ingelow's High Tide are pass
ing into literary history. And yet, as the
advertisements say, whenever a long-felt
want exists, the man comes sooner or later
to fill it, and so we have new poet, by the
harsh name of Rudyard Kipling. He is an
Anglo-Indian, born of British parents in
Hindostan; is about 26 years of age, and
has certainly written fugitive verses which
display fire and verye worthy of Tenny-
son himself Whether he will fail as he
looms up remains TO be seen. Meanwhile,
the magazines are eager for matter from
him, and his uncouth name is becoming
familiar.
Popular taste in poetry fluctuates curl
Ously. 1t is eighty years since Byron pub
lished the first part OF "Childe Harold"
and, in his own words, woke up one morn
ing and found himself famous. he became
the idol of English-speaking people through
out the world. No such poet, said the pa
pers, had lived since Milton and Shakes
peare. Ten years afterward he published
the closing cantos Of Don Juan" 1t
shocked refined taste, and disguised con-
Servatiyes in politics and religion. Stories
of his loose life reached England. His con-
duet to his wife was denounced. He met
abuse with defiance, and criticism with
scorn. Almost as quickly as he had risen
he fell, and al his death, in 1924. his reputa-
ton was on the wane. For thirty years his
verses were read and extracts from "Childe
Harold" figured in all the readers; but the
general impression was that he was an er-
ratio writer with flashes of genius, but I'M
equal and often fiat. 1t was not till
Trenchmau, NJ. Taine announced that he
was the greatest Englishman of the nine
teenth century that Englsh-speaking crit
les and readers devoted new study to his
poems and discovered that their merits had
never been fully appreciated. 1t is now
evident thai in the twentieth century Byron
will rank above Tennysou in the list of
poets.
The fact is that very few people indeed
are competent to form a judgment on
high-elass poem. Somebody in authority
declares that work is great. Everybody
accepts the verdict without investigation
and reputation is made. For two centu-
ries and half children of our race have
been made to read Paradise Lost" though
for batnos, pretension, absurdity of plot
and scarcity Of thought it is without paral-
lei in the language. So, forty years ago,
some critic, who wanted to show his acu-
men, announced that SCOTS poems were
doggerel. Forthwith the whole English
speaking people accepted the dogma that,
while Scott could write novels, he was a
poor hand at verse. 1t is only in our day
that persons of taste have realized that our
tongue contains few poems equal in vigor
and rhythm and dramatic power to parts of
the LAY of the Last Minstrel" ''Marmi-
on" and THE Lady of the Lake" In the
long run merit is recognized. Good books
live and tad books die; but sometimes it
takes long time to discriminate between
the good aud the bad.