The unit in _vers libre_ is not the foot, the number of the syllables, the quantity, or the line. The unit is the strophe, which may be the whole poem, or may be only a part. Each strophe is a complete circle: in fact, the meaning of the Greek word “strophe” is simply that part of the poem which was recited while the chorus were making a turn round the altar set up in the centre of the theatre. The simile of the circle is more than a simile, therefore; it is a fact. Of course the circle need not always be the same size, nor need the times allowed to negotiate it be always the same. There is room here for an infinite number of variations. Also, circles can be added to circles, movement upon movement, to the poem, provided each movement completes itself, and ramifies naturally into the next. But one thing must be borne in mind: a cadenced poem is written to be read aloud, in this way only will its rhythm be felt. Poetry is a spoken and not a written art.
The _vers libristes_ are often accused of declaring that they have discovered a new thing. Where such an idea started, it is impossible to say, certainly none of the better _vers libristes_ was ever guilty of so ridiculous a statement. The name _vers libre_ is new, the thing, most emphatically, is not. Not new in English poetry, at any rate. You will find something very much like it in Dryden's _Threnodia Augustalis_; a great deal of Milton's _Samson Agonistes_ is written in it; and Matthew Arnold's _Philomela_ is a shining example of it. Practically all of Henley's _London Voluntaries_ are written in it, and (so potent are names) until it was christened _vers libre_, no one thought of objecting to it. But the oldest reference to _vers libre_ is to be found in Chaucer's _House of Fame_, where the Eagle addresses the Poet in these words:
And nevertheless hast set thy wyt Although that in thy heed full lyte is To make bookes, songes, or dytees In rhyme or elles in cadence.
Commentators have wasted reams of paper in an endeavour to determine what Chaucer meant by this. But is it not possible that he meant a verse based upon rhythm, but which did not follow the strict metrical prosody of his usual practice?
One of the charges frequently brought against the Imagists is that they write, not poetry, but “shredded prose.” This misconception springs from the almost complete ignorance of the public in regard to the laws of cadenced verse. But, in fact, what is prose and what is poetry? Is it merely a matter of typographical arrangement? Must everything which is printed in equal lines, with rhymes at the ends, be called poetry, and everything which is printed in a block be called prose? Aristotle, who certainly knew more about this subject than any one else, declares in his _Rhetoric_ that prose is rhythmical without being metrical (that is to say, without insistence on any single rhythm), and then goes on to state the feet that are employed in prose, making, incidentally, the remark that the iambic prevailed in ordinary conversation. The fact is, that there is no hard and fast dividing line between prose and poetry. As a French poet of distinction, Paul Fort, has said: “Prose and poetry are but one instrument, graduated.” It is not a question of typography; it is not even a question of rules and forms. Poetry is the vision in a man's soul which he translates as best he can with the means at his disposal.