(This sounds like Sir Roger de Coverly)
A single manner or mood thoroughly matured and exploited is that fresh thing … etc.
One has to keep looking for poetry as Renoir looked for colors in old walls, wood-work and so on.
Your place is
—among children
Leaping around a dead dog.
A book of that would feed the hungry.…
Well a book of poems is a damned serious affair. I am only objecting that a book that contains your particular quality should contain anything else and suggesting that if the quality were carried to a communicable extreme, in intensity and volume, etc.… I see it all over the book, in your landscapes and portraits, but dissipated and obscured. Bouquets for brides and Spencerian compliments for poets.… There are a very few men who have anything native in them or for whose work I’d give a Bolshevic ruble.… But I think your tantrums not half mad enough.
(I am not quite clear about the last sentence but I presume he means that I do not push my advantage through to an overwhelming decision. What would you have me do with my Circe, Stevens, now that I have doublecrossed her game, marry her? It is not what Odysseus did).
I return Pound’s letter … observe how in everything he does he proceeds with the greatest positiveness etc.