Nor do Mr. Sharp’s constant misquotations really help him out of his difficulties.  Such a line as

   A meadow ribbed with drying swathes of hay,

has at least the merit of being a simple, straightforward description of an ordinary scene in an English landscape, but not much can be said in favour of

   A meadow ribbed with dying swathes of hay,

which is Mr. Sharp’s own version, and one that he finds ’delightfully suggestive.’  It is indeed suggestive, but only of that want of care that comes from want of taste.

On the whole, Mr. Sharp has attempted an impossible task.  Mr. Austin is neither an Olympian nor a Titan, and all the puffing in Paternoster Row cannot set him on Parnassus.

His verse is devoid of all real rhythmical life; it may have the metre of poetry, but it has not often got its music, nor can there be any true delicacy in the ear that tolerates such rhymes as ‘chord’ and ‘abroad.’  Even the claim that Mr. Sharp puts forward for him, that his muse takes her impressions directly from nature and owes nothing to books, cannot be sustained for a moment.  Wordsworth is a great poet, but bad echoes of Wordsworth are extremely depressing, and when Mr. Austin calls the cuckoo a

   Voyaging voice

and tells us that

      The stockdove broods
   Low to itself,

we must really enter a protest against such silly plagiarisms.

Perhaps, however, we are treating Mr. Sharp too seriously.  He admits himself that it was at the special request of the compiler of the Calendar that he wrote the preface at all, and though he courteously adds that the task is agreeable to him, still he shows only too clearly that he considers it a task and, like a clever lawyer or a popular clergyman, tries to atone for his lack of sincerity by a pleasing over-emphasis.  Nor is there any reason why this Calendar should not be a great success.  If published as a broad-sheet, with a picture of Mr. Austin ’conversing with AEneas,’ it might gladden many a simple cottage home and prove a source of innocent amusement to the Conservative working-man.

Days of the Year:  A Poetic Calendar from the Works of Alfred Austin.  Selected and edited by A. S. With Introduction by William Sharp. (Walter Scott.)

THE POETS’ CORNER—­II

(Pall Mall Gazette, March 8, 1837.)

A little schoolboy was once asked to explain the difference between prose and poetry.  After some consideration he replied, ’"blue violets” is prose, and “violets blue” is poetry.’  The distinction, we admit, is not exhaustive, but it seems to be the one that is extremely popular with our minor poets.  Opening at random The Queens Innocent we come across passages like this: 

      Full gladly would I sit
   Of such a potent magus at the feet,