``Is it all going to be in blank verse?'' asked the
critic.
``Of course not; `Durbar' comes at the end of the fourth
line.''
``That seems so cowardly; however, it explains why you
pitched on Cutch Behar.''
``There is more connection between geographical
place-names and poetical inspiration than is generally
recognized; one of the chief reasons why there are so few
really great poems about Russia in our language is that you
can't possibly get a rhyme to names like Smolensk and
Tobolsk and Minsk.''
Clovis spoke with the authority of one who has tried.
``Of course, you could rhyme Omsk with Tomsk,'' he
continued; ``in fact, they seem to be there for that
purpose, but the public wouldn't stand that sort of thing
indefinitely.''
``The public will stand a good deal,'' said Bertie
malevolently, ``and so small a proportion of it knows
Russian that you could always have an explanatory footnote
asserting that the last three letters in Smolensk are not
pronounced. It's quite as believable as your statement
about putting elephants out to grass in the Himalayan
range.''
``I've got rather a nice bit,'' resumed Clovis with
unruffled serenity, ``giving an evening scene on the
outskirts of a jungle village:
`` `Where the coiled cobra in the gloaming gloats,
And prowling panthers stalk the wary goats.
Pages:
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206