lone is it affirmed by the general opinion) that the
language of poetry (i. e. the formal construction, or architecture, of
the words and phrases) is essentially different from that of prose.
Now the burthen of the proof lies with the oppugner, not with the
supporters of the common belief. Mr. Wordsworth, in consequence,
assigns as the proof of his position, 'that not only the language of a
large portion of every good poem, even of the most elevated character,
must necessarily, except with reference to the metre, in no respect
differ from that of good prose, but likewise that some of the most
interesting parts of the best poems will be found to be strictly the
language of prose, when prose is well written. The truth of this
assertion might be demonstrated by innumerable passages from almost
all the poetical writings even of Milton himself.' He then quotes
Gray's sonnet:--

In vain to me the smiling mornings shine,
And reddening Phoebus lifts his golden fire;
The birds in vain their amorous descant join,
Or cheerful fields resume their green attire.
These ears, alas! for other notes repine;
_A different object do these eyes require;
My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine;
And in my breast the imperfect joys expire._
Yet morning smiles the busy race to cheer,
And newborn pleasure brings to happier men;
The fields to all their wonted tribute bear,
To warm their little loves the birds complain.
_I fruitless mourn to him that cannot hear,
And weep the more because I weep in vain_,

and adds the following remark:--'It will easily be perceived, that the
only part of this Sonnet, which is of any value, is the lines printed
in italics. It is equally obvious, that, except in the rhyme, and in
the use of the single word "fruitless" for "fruitlessly", which is so
far a defect, the language of these lines does in no respect differ
from that of prose.'

An idealist defending his system by the fact, that when asleep we
often believe ourselves awake, was well answered by his plain
neighbour, 'Ah, but when awake do we ever believe ourselves
asleep?'--Things identical must be convertible. The preceding passage
seems to rest on a similar sophism. For the question is not, whether
there may not occur in prose an order of words, which would be equally
proper in a poem; nor whether there are not beautiful lines and
sentences of frequent occurrence in good poems, which would be