Some Imagist Poets, 1916: An Annual Anthology — Reading Companion
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The New Poetry Series
PUBLISHED BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
IRRADIATIONS. SAND AND SPRAY. JOHN GOULD FLETCHER.
JAPANESE LYRICS. Translated by LAFCADIO HEARN.
AFTERNOONS OF APRIL. GRACE HAZARD CONKLING.
THE CLOISTER: A VERSE DRAMA. EMILE VERHAEREN.
INTERFLOW. GEOFFREY C. FABER.
STILLWATER PASTORALS AND OTHER POEMS. PAUL SHIVELL.
IDOLS. WALTER CONRAD ARENSBERG.
TURNS AND MOVIES, AND OTHER TALES IN VERSE. CONRAD AIKEN.
ROADS. GRACE FALLOW NORTON.
GOBLINS AND PAGODAS. JOHN GOULD FLETCHER.
SOME IMAGIST POETS. _1916._
A SONG OF THE GUNS. GILBERT FRANKAU.
MOTHERS AND MEN. HAROLD T. PULSIFER.
SOME IMAGIST POETS, _1916_
SOME IMAGIST POETS _1916_
BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY The Riverside Press Cambridge 1916
COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
In bringing the second volume of _Some Imagist Poets_ before the public, the authors wish to express their gratitude for the interest which the 1915 volume aroused. The discussion of it was widespread, and even those critics out of sympathy with Imagist tenets accorded it much space. In the Preface to that book, we endeavoured to present those tenets in a succinct form. But the very brevity we employed has lead to a great deal of misunderstanding. We have decided, therefore, to explain the laws which govern us a little more fully. A few people may understand, and the rest can merely misunderstand again, a result to which we are quite accustomed.
In the first place “Imagism” does not mean merely the presentation of pictures. “Imagism” refers to the manner of presentation, not to the subject. It means a clear presentation of whatever the author wishes to convey. Now he may wish to convey a mood of indecision, in which case the poem should be indecisive; he may wish to bring before his reader the constantly shifting and changing lights over a landscape, or the varying attitudes of mind of a person under strong emotion, then his poem must shift and change to present this clearly. The “exact” word does not mean the word which exactly describes the object in itself, it means the “exact” word which brings the effect of that object before the reader as it presented itself to the poet's mind at the time of writing the poem. Imagists deal but little with similes, although much of their poetry is metaphorical. The reason for this is that while acknowledging the figure to be an integral part of all poetry, they feel that the constant imposing of one figure upon another in the same poem blurs the central effect.
The great French critic, Remy de Gourmont, wrote last Summer in _La France_ that the Imagists were the descendants of the French _Symbolistes_. In the Preface to his _Livre des Masques_, M. de Gourmont has thus described _Symbolisme_: “Individualism in literature, liberty of art, abandonment of existing forms.... The sole excuse which a man can have for writing is to write down himself, to unveil for others the sort of world which mirrors itself in his individual glass.... He should create his own aesthetics--and we should admit as many aesthetics as there are original minds, and judge them for what they are and not what they are not.” In this sense the Imagists are descendants of the _Symbolistes_; they are Individualists.
The only reason that Imagism has seemed so anarchaic and strange to English and American reviewers is that their minds do not easily and quickly suggest the steps by which modern art has arrived at its present position. Its immediate prototype cannot be found in English or American literature, we must turn to Europe for it. With Debussy and Stravinsky in music, and Gauguin and Matisse in painting, it should have been evident to every one that art was entering upon an era of change. But music and painting are universal languages, so we have become accustomed to new idioms in them, while we still find it hard to recognize a changed idiom in literature.
The crux of the situation is just here. It is in the idiom employed. Imagism asks to be judged by different standards from those employed in Nineteenth-Century art. It is small wonder that Imagist poetry should be incomprehensible to men whose sole touchstone for art is the literature of one country for a period of four centuries. And it is an illuminating fact that among poets and men conversant with many poetic idioms, Imagism is rarely misconceived. They may not agree with us, but they do not misunderstand us.
The 1916 volume of Some Imagist Poets opens with a preface that refines the movement's principles, insisting that Imagism is a method of 'clear presentation' rather than a subject matter. The poets aim for the 'exact word' that conveys the poet's impression, not the object itself. This distinction is tested throughout the anthology, as poems oscillate between sharp sensory detail and diffuse emotional states. F. S. Flint's 'Chalfont Saint Giles' lingers on mossy paths and forget-me-nots, while his 'War-Time' rejects pastoral tranquillity for the 'detritus of a city' and the 'heat of Europe's fever.' The collection thus enacts a deliberate tension between stillness and disruption, private grief and public catastrophe.
Precision and Its Discontents
The preface's emphasis on the 'exact word' is complicated by poems that foreground indecision and shifting moods. Flint's 'Terror' describes a moment before sleep when 'a voice calls my name in my ear,' only to find 'no one is there.' The poem's clarity lies in its precise rendering of an ambiguous sensation. Similarly, D. H. Lawrence's 'Erinnyes' invokes 'angry, unappeased' ghosts that are 'Invisible, yet strong,' a paradox that resists concrete imagery. The Imagist method, as practiced here, does not always produce hard-edged pictures; it can also capture the indistinct edges of perception. The preface itself acknowledges that a poem conveying indecision 'should be indecisive,' granting the poets license to blur focus when the subject demands it.
War as a Disruptive Force
Several poems confront the First World War directly, but rarely through battle scenes. Flint's 'War-Time' maps a psychological geography: the left road leads to 'bovine quiet' and gardens, while the right road leads to 'greater and greater disquiet,' tram-routes, and shouted news. The speaker chooses the latter, feeling 'the heat of Europe's fever' and declaring 'no spring and no woman's beauty, while that is burning.' Lawrence's 'Erinnyes' populates the present with the dead: 'So many ghosts among us, / Invisible, yet strong, / Between me and thee.' The war intrudes not as spectacle but as a pervasive atmosphere, altering perception of everyday spaces and relationships. The anthology's structure—placing such poems alongside quieter lyrics—amplifies this tension.
Domestic Interiors and Emotional Aftermaths
F. S. Flint's prose poem 'The Swan' recounts a domestic quarrel: the speaker feels 'gloomy, angry, stubborn' after an unnamed 'poison' works in him, until his wife's touch—'She stroked my hair'—restores love. The poem ends with him lighting a lamp and 'making this poem,' framing the creative act as a resolution of emotional turmoil. The setting is intimate—a room with 'papers and books'—and the conflict is internal, not external. This focus on private feeling, rendered through precise physical details (the lamp's 'circle of light,' the wife's gesture), exemplifies the Imagist commitment to presenting a 'mood of indecision' or emotional shift without explanatory commentary. The poem's structure mirrors the preface's claim that form should follow the poet's changing state of mind.
Readers approaching this anthology should attend to the interplay between its stated principles and its actual practice. The preface offers a framework, but the poems often test its boundaries, especially when dealing with war, grief, or psychological ambiguity. Notice how each poet handles the 'exact word'—sometimes it sharpens an image, sometimes it captures a blur. The collection rewards attention to small formal choices: line breaks, repetition, and the shift between verse and prose. These are not finished manifestos but working documents of a movement in transition.
There’s something about the Imagists’ insistence on clear presentation that always brings me back to quieter afternoons, when a poem feels less like a statement and more like a held breath. That same quality haunts the pear-tree symposium in A Tree with a Bird in it: A Symposium of Contemporary American Poets on Being Shown a Pear-tree on Which Sat a Grackle — Reading Notes, where the ordinary becomes a small, strange event we never quite finish explaining.
Before you leave, reflect on the book
Use these questions to collect your thoughts before moving on.
Mila Perez
1 month ago