Mr. D. H. Lawrence is the best known of the poets in this book, although a newcomer to the anthology. No modern writer is more vigorous than he, and none is more entirely, almost brutally sincere. In Mr. Lawrence’s novels this brutality is sometimes excessively evident, but always one feels that the author inflicts pain upon himself as well as his readers; that he says what he sees and is concerned not to shirk and be a coward for his own comfort. In his poetry, Mr. Lawrence seems to be more lenient with himself. It is as though he allowed the moralist in him a day out. Not that he ever ceases to be a moralist, really. But he permits himself to lay a slight covering over the stark nakedness of disagreeable facts. This covering is poetry, and very beautiful and original poetry it is. Green The sky was apple-green The sky was green wine held up in the sun, The moon was a golden petal between. She opened her eyes, and green They show, clear like flowers undone, For the first time, now for the first time seen. Mr. Lawrence has solved the problem of _vers libre_ for himself, by writing in a rhymed metre which usually defies all scansion, but which gives a queer, and most satisfactory effect, of elasticity and strength. For this reason, and for its novelty, Mr. Lawrence’s manner is very interesting, but his matter is still more so. Read _The Mowers_, a common tragedy, but put so newly and strikingly that it comes upon one with all its original force. _Fireflies in the Corn_ and _A Woman to Her Dead Husband_ are new in subject as well as in presentation, and they have a bald reality about them which I have never met in any other poem. But never once does Mr. Lawrence make the mistake of being only a realist; he never ceases to be a poet. In _Fireflies in the Corn_ there are these lines: And those bright fireflies wafting in between And over the swaying cornstalks, just above And all their dark-feathered helmets, like little green Stars, come low and wandering here for love Of this dark earth. The _Ballad of Another Ophelia_ is probably his best poem. In it we see his peculiar style at its very best. Mr. Lawrence is the singer of truth, the lover of humanity. His inclusion into the Imagist group shows that the school is broad and real enough not to desire to shut itself up in the cupboard of precocity, as in the beginning there was some fear of its doing.