idea would be as coldly disregarded as indeed he was before his death on active service, when practically all the poems for which he has since become famous had already appeared. War-poetry was Georgianism’s second-wind, for the contrast between the grinding hardships of trench-service--which as a matter of fact none of the early-Georgians experienced--and the Georgian stock-subjects enumerated above was a ready poetic theme. Imagism also profited by the war, though, as it was more an American than an English product, it was only mobilized for war-service when neo-Georgianism had already made a good start. The expansion of feminism in poetry as in other war-services introduced a number of other dead movements which had, roughly speaking, one of two common sentimental ‘tones’: daintiness or daring. The ‘daintiness’ movements employed an Elizabethan or Cavalier atmosphere and were a form of escape from the War; they were further characterized by ‘cuteness’ (in the American sense), archness, slyness and naughtiness; the impression they left was of an argument in which the poet always won by having the last word. The ‘daring’ movements used for the most part free, very free, verse; they were ‘confessing’ movements in which the poet, under the influence of war-excitement, indulged in one burst of confidence after another. Imagism may be said to have engaged only the upper half of the plain reading public. But Georgianism in England and the daintiness and daring movements in America made poetry pay for a long time; until the poets and the plain readers grew tired, at about the same time. It can be said unreservedly that of all that creative and reading enthusiasm _nothing_ remains except, perhaps, a few shadowy names. Of the war poets whose works were temporarily advertised by their death in action only three can be regretted: Sorley, Rosenberg and Owen. Of the Imagists H.D. (Hilda Doolittle) was the most publicly applauded; all we have left of her now is the blushing memory of a short-lived popularity in the more adventurous reviews, and a few false metaphors. What disappears first in the poetry of dead movements is the personal reality of the poet, which has been represented with false intensity to make a romantic personal appeal to the reader (an appeal which does not appear so extravagantly in modernist poetry); the poetry itself drags on a little longer, waste. O night, you take the petals of the roses in your hand but leave the stark core of the rose to perish on the branch. Compare this metaphor with an equally eccentric one of Emily Dickinson’s, a poet belonging to no ‘movement’ and whose personal reality pervades her work, though she kept it strictly out of her work: Victory comes late And is held low to freezing lips Too wrapt with frost To take.