POETA FIT, NON NASCITUR
"How shall I be a
poet?
How shall I write in
rhyme?
You told me once 'the very wish
Partook of the
sublime.'
Then tell me how! Don't put me off
With your '
another time'!"
The
old man smiled to see him,
To hear his sudden sally;
He liked the lad to speak his mind
Enthusiastically;
And thought "There's no
hum-drum in him,
Nor any
shilly-shally."
"And would you be a poet
Before you've been to
school?
Ah, well! I hardly thought you
So absolute a
fool.
First learn to be
spasmodic -
A very simple rule.
"For first you write a sentence,
And then you chop it small;
Then
mix the bits, and sort them out
Just as they chance to fall:
The order of the phrases makes
No difference at all.
'Then, if you'd be impressive,
Remember what I say,
That
abstract qualities begin
With capitals alway:
The True, the Good, the Beautiful -
Those are the things that pay!
"Next, when you are describing
A shape, or sound, or
tint;
Don't state the matter plainly,
But put it in a hint;
And learn to look at all things
With a sort of mental
squint."
"For instance, if I wished, Sir,
Of
mutton-pies to tell,
Should I say 'dreams of fleecy flocks
Pent in a wheaten
cell'?"
"Why, yes," the old man said: "that phrase
Would answer very well.
"Then fourthly, there are
epithets
That suit with any word -
As well as
Harvey's Reading Sauce
With fish, or flesh, or bird -
Of these, 'wild,' 'lonely,' 'weary,' 'strange,'
Are much to be preferred."
"And will it do, O will it do
To take them in a lump -
As '
the wild man went his weary way
To a strange and lonely pump'?"
"Nay, nay! You must not hastily
To such conclusions jump.
"Such epithets, like
pepper,
Give zest to what you write;
And, if you strew them sparely,
They
whet the appetite:
But if you lay them on too thick,
You spoil the matter quite!
"Last, as to the arrangement:
Your reader, you should show him,
Must take what information he
Can get, and look for no im-
mature disclosure of the drift
And purpose of
your poem.
"Therefore, to
test his patience -
How much he can endure -
Mention no places, names, or dates,
And evermore be sure
Throughout the poem to be found
Consistently
obscure.
"First fix upon the limit
To which it shall extend:
Then fill it up with '
Padding'
(Beg some of any
friend):
Your great SENSATION-STANZA
You place towards the end."
"And what is a Sensation,
Grandfather, tell me,
pray?
I think I never heard the word
So used before to-day:
Be kind enough to mention one
'
Exempli gratia.'"
And the old man, looking sadly
Across the garden-lawn,
Where here and there a dew-drop
Yet glittered in the dawn,
Said "Go to the
Adelphi,
And see the '
Colleen Bawn.'
'The word is due to Boucicault -
The theory is his,
Where Life becomes a
Spasm,
And History a
Whiz:
If that is not Sensation,
I don't know what it is.
"Now try your hand, ere Fancy
Have lost its present glow - "
"And then," his grandson added,
"We'll publish it, you know:
Green cloth - gold-lettered at the back -
In
duodecimo!"
Then proudly smiled that old man
To see the eager lad
Rush madly for his
pen and ink
And for his blotting-pad -
But, when he thought of
publishing,
His face grew stern and sad.
Lewis Carroll,1860-1863
Poeta Fit, non Nascitur can be translated as "A Poet is not made, but Born" (thanks Sylvar!)