lies in one, and finally to lay aside and rewrite again.

After the line scans and the rhymes are proved should come the effort
to put the thought clearly. It is often hard to say what one means in
prose. It is harder in verse. In fact, one of the greatest difficulties
any verse maker can overcome is the tendency to be obscure in his
meaning.

With the surmounting of this obstacle comes simplicity of diction; to
present the thought without superfluous words; to avoid the threadbare
phrases and to put the idea in a new way and yet in plain speech. How
far the verse maker will go in clearness and simplicity depends largely
on his natural good taste and discrimination. The better he is able to
appreciate the work of others the better his own will become, and this
appreciation, though it cannot be created, can be cultivated as well as
good manners. To-day more than ever before good reading is one of the
prime essentials to good writing.

Stevenson has recommended imitation as a road to originality and few
have disagreed with him on this point. It is undoubtedly easier to write
a sonnet if one is familiar with Wordsworth or to write a ballade if
one has read Dobson. At the same time to be of value the imitation must
be done broadly and systematically. The artist does not learn to draw by
copying Gibson heads nor the verse maker to write by diluting Kipling.
An imitation should always be made with the idea of reproducing some one
quality which the imitator wishes to develop in himself; the verse maker
should copy not one style but many, and aim at methods rather than
mannerisms.

For a first step in imitation it is well to select a subject akin to the
original and follow the author's construction and trend of thought as
closely as possible. For instance, there is a sonnet on Milton--write a
companion sonnet on Shakespeare or Dante. Match stanzas to Washington
with similar stanzas to Lincoln or Cromwell or any other character who
can be treated in the same general manner. Gray's "Elegy in a Country
Churchyard" suggests other elegies in other churchyards.

One may even parody a poem--not broadly, line for line in the American
fashion--but in the more delicate Calverley way, which applies the
spirit and meter of the poem to a lighter subject. One must imitate
before one can originate, but haphazard imitation leads nowhere.

In conclusion it may be said that verse making is no mystic art hidden
from the many. It is to be ac