A piece of music is not necessarily formless because it is not built on the model of one of the acknowledged forms. A composer is not a heretic because he builds a new pattern. But there are certain fundamentals of form, and these we should demand in every work. In the simplest music we should require that there be recognizable a beginning, a middle, and an end. We should demand discernible rhythms and symmetrical phrases, and we should require that these be exhibited throughout the composition with evident design. In the higher forms there ought to be melodic subjects, and these subjects ought to be discussed and developed. It is almost impossible to escape the cyclic form, with its proposition, discussion, and conclusion; but if the composer does escape it, we must insist upon it that he adhere to the essential principle of repetition and that he distribute his repetitions in such a manner as to preserve the symmetry and balance of his work and to effect an organic unity. His work should contain nothing that does not belong to it. Every phrase should be, as W. A. Hadow suggests, "inevitable." On the other hand a man is not necessarily a mere formalist because he clings to the old-fashioned sonata form. Brahms's compositions show a completeness of architectonic detail, superimposed upon a symmetrical and inevitable organic development, such as are to be found in those of no other symphonist, except Beethoven. Why deny to the late Viennese master depth of feeling because he fashioned the expression of that feeling with all the force of a gigantic musical intellect? Brahms's music grows slowly in popular favor because it is not easy for the careless hearer to grasp its inner spirit. But it is not true that music, to be real music, demands a Swinburnian diction. "The low downs lean to the sea; the stream, One loose, thin, pulseless, tremulous vein, Rapid and vivid and dumb as a dream, Works downward, sick of the sun and the rain; No wind is rough with the rank rare flowers; The sweet sea, mother of loves and hours, Shudders and shines as the gray winds gleam, Turning her smile to a fugitive pain." That is great poetry, and the rhythm and the melody and feeling of it are as the music of Chopin and Schumann. But this also is great poetry:-- "And chiefly thou, O spirit! that dost prefer Before all temples the upright heart and pure, Instruct me, for thou knowest; thou from the first Wast present, and, with mighty wings outspread, Dovelike sat'st brooding on the vast abyss, And madest it pregnant; what in me is dark Illumine! what is low raise and support! That to the height of this great argument I may assert eternal Providence, And justify the ways of God to men."