I too, dislike it: there are things that are important beyond all this fiddle.
 Reading it, however, with a perfect contempt for it, one discovers that there is in
 it after all, a place for the genuine.
 Hands that can grasp, eyes
 that can dilate, hair that can rise
 if it must, these things are important not because a 
 high sounding interpretation can be put upon them but because they are
 useful; when they become so derivative as to become unintelligible,
 the same thing may be said for all of us, that we
 do not admire what
 we cannot understand: the bat,
 holding on upside down or in quest of something to

 eat, elephants pushing, a wild horse taking a roll, a tireless wolf under
 a tree, the immovable critic twitching his skin like a horse that feels a flea, the base­
 ball fan, the statistician --
 nor is it valid
 to discriminate against "business documents and 

 school-books": all these phenomena are important. One must make a distinction
 however: when dragged into prominence by half poets, the result is not poetry, 
 nor till the poets among us can be
 "literalists of
 the imagination" -- above
 insolence and triviality and can present

 for inspection, imaginary gardens with real toads in them, shall we have
 it. In the meantime, if you demand on one hand,
 the raw material of poetry in
 all its rawness and
 that which is on the other hand
 genuine, then you are interested in poetry.