“Their (the Imagists’) insistence on the necessity of an absolutely fresh start in poetry.” They claim to have discovered “poetry as an Art.” They devoted their energies solely to the cultivation of new form and the adoption of a renovated language oblivious of the fact that Idea must primarily dictate both.” “The forms they still felt they might use, the vocabulary that remained at their disposal, were extremely limited.” They had thrown so much good material away “that they remained now almost unprovided with a language or a style.” It looks as though they threw away the baby with the bath water. So they divided. “Some decided to tolerate the old subjects, but to discover a new manner of presenting or representing, them; others, not so satisfied, probed nervously the psychological recesses of the New World and dragged out all the strangest rags of fancy they could find, exhibiting them solely on account of their whimsical colour and shapes. Further, “they do not profess to sing.” (Neither does modern commerce). They swear by “the best of intellect.” “Their minds are obsessed by the Town.” They acclaim the “passing event.” They suspect the “beauties of poetry.” “The method of the Imagists is to model little detached patterns of words.” One of their principles seems to suggest “that if one first design a poem, then the idea will be present by reason of the design.” This recalls the principle of certain theatre reformers that if one builds a new theatre a new form of drama will enter crowned with daisies. It is equal to saying that given a donkey’s tail the donkey will be present because of the tail.