In considering an original work like "Leaves of Grass," the search is
always for the grounds upon which it is to be justified and explained.
These grounds in this work are not easy to find; they lie deeper than the
grounds upon which the popular poets rest. Because they are not at once
seen, many readers have denied that there are any such grounds. But to
deny a basis of reality to a work with the history of "Leaves of Grass,"
and a basis well grounded on æsthetic and artistic principles, is not to
be thought of.
The more the poet eludes us, the more we know he has his hiding-place
somewhere. The more he denies our standards, the more we know he has
standards of his own which we must discover; the more he flouts at our
literary conventions, the more we must press him for his own principles
and methods. How does he justify himself to himself? Could any sane man
have written the Children of Adam poems who was not sustained by deepest
moral and æsthetic convictions? It is the business of the critic to search
for these principles and convictions, and not shirk the task by ridicule
and denial.