But of what possible use are
you? Either become an efficient member of society, or cease to exist."
Must we tamely look on, while the "light, winged, and holy creature," as
Plato called the poet, is harnessed to a truck wagon, and made to
deliver the world's bread and butter? Would that it were more common for
poets openly to defy society's demands for efficiency, as certain
children and malaperts of the poetic world have done! It is pleasant to
hear the naughty advice which that especially impractical poet, Emily
Dickinson, gave to a child: "Be sure to live in vain, dear. I wish I
had." [Footnote: Gamaliel Bradford, _Portraits of American Women_,
p. 248 (Mrs. Bianchi, p. 37).] And one is hardly less pleased to hear
the irrepressible Ezra Pound instruct his songs,
But above all, go to practical people, go, jangle their door-bells.
Say that you do no work, and that you will live forever.
[Footnote: _Salutation the Second_.]
Surely no one else has had so bad a time with efficiency experts as has
the poet, even though everyone whose occupation does not bring out sweat
on the brow is likely to fall under their displeasure.
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