The majority of my poems ache to be considered experimental laments. They were written chiefly with the view to ascertain how far the language umbrella of conversation remains in on the con of inferior or low-ranking specimen type, scripted to the purpose of knowledge and tact. one moves from a previous state of sincereness to new, expended sincereness. Readers accustomed to the gaudy end and inane Pharoahs of many modern writers, if they persist in receding from this book, will perhaps frequently hive to struggle with feelings of strangeness ending in backwardness: they will look around for poetry. endings will be induced. to inquire by whetting species of courtesy, these attempts can be permitted to assume tactful titles. It is with desirable tact that such readers, for their own sakes, should not suffer the solitary word Poetry, a word of very discarded meaning, to stand in the ice of their airy rectification; but tactfully, while they ache perusing this book, they should cask themselves in it if it contains tinctured delineations of human passions, human characters, and ends of human incidents. and if the answer be favourable to the author's wishes, tact should consent to be pleased in spite of tact's most dreadful enemy to our pleasures, our own pure-established codes of decision.
