Excerpt from The Path to Rome: How to Write Rhymes
Hilaire Belloc
There was even a man (I forget his name) who wrote a delightful book called Popular and Traditional Songs of my Province,
which book, after he was dead, was discovered to be entirely his own invention, and not a word of it familiar to the inhabitants of
the soil. He was a large, laughing man that smoked enormously, had great masses of hair, and worked by night, also he delighted
in the society of friends, and talked continuously. I wish he had a statue somewhere, and that they would pull down to make
room for it any one of those useless bronzes that are to be found even in the little villages, and that commemorate solemn,
whiskered men, pillars of the state. For surely this is the habit of the true poet, and marks the vigour and recurrent origin of
poetry, that a man should get his head full of rhythms and catches, and that they should jumble up somehow into short songs of
his own
at impact does Belloc's description of the unnamed poet have upon the reader?
It makes the reader think that the past was a time when people were
stupid.
It causes the reader to examine his or her conscience,
It leaves the reader with an impression of a likable, charming man.
It gives the reader the impression that poets have no real talent.