“Excuse me, ma'am; the want of rhythm there was intentional.”
“I am sorry for that. Intention is the worst possible excuse for wrong! The accent should always be made to fall in the right place.”
“Beyond a doubt—but might not the right place alter with the sense?”
“Never. The rule is strict”
“Is there no danger of making the verse monotonous?”
“Not that I know.”
“I have an idea, ma'am, that our great poets owe much of their music to the liberties they take with the rhythm. They treat the rule as its masters, and break it when they see fit.”
“You must be wrong there! But in any case you must not presume to take the liberties of a great poet.”
“It is a poor reward for being a great poet to be allowed to take liberties. I should say that, doing their work to the best of their power, they were rewarded with the discovery of higher laws of verse. Every one must walk by the light given him. By the rules which others have laid down he may learn to walk; but once his heart is awake to truth, and his ear to measure, melody and harmony, he must walk by the light, and the music God gives him.”
“That is dangerous doctrine, Andrew!” said the lady, with a superior smile. “But,” she continued, “I will mark what faults I see, and point them out to you.”