t, when possessed of such wisdom, differ from
the philosopher proper? To this question one can give readily enough the
general answer, that the difference lies in the mode of utterance.
Furthermore, we have already given some account of the peculiar manner
of the poet. He invites us to experience with him the beautiful and
moving in nature and life. That which the poet has to express, and that
which he aims to arouse in others, is an appreciative experience. He
requires what Wordsworth calls "an atmosphere of sensation in which to
move his wings." Therefore if he is to be philosophical in intelligence,
and yet essentially a poet, he must find his universal truth in
immediate experience. He must be one who, in seeing the many, sees the
one. The philosopher-poet is he who visualizes a fundamental
interpretation of the world. "A poem," says one poet, "is the very image
of life expressed in its eternal truth."

The philosopher proper, on the other hand, has the sterner and less
inviting task of rendering such an interpretation articulate to thought.
That which the poet sees, the philosopher must define. That which the
poet divines, the philosopher must calculate. The philosopher must dig
for that which the poet sees shining through. As the poet transcends
thought for the sake of experience, the philosopher must transcend
experience for the sake of thought. As the poet sees all, and all in
each, so the philosopher, knowing each, must think all consistently
together, and then know each again. It is the part of philosophy to
collect and criticise evidence, to formulate and coordinate conceptions,
and finally to define in exact terms. The reanimation of the structure
of thought is accomplished primarily in religion, which is a general
conception of the world made the basis of daily living.

For religion there is no subjective correlative less than life itself.
Poetry is another and more circumscribed means of restoring thought to
life. By the poet's imagination, and through the art of his expression,
thought may be sensuously perceived. "If the time should ever come,"
says Wordsworth, "when what is now called Science, thus familiarized to
men, shall be ready to put on, as it were, a form of flesh, and blood,
the Poet will lend his divine spirit to aid the transfiguration, and
will welcome the Being thus produced, as a dear and genuine inmate of
the household of man."[50:9] As respects truth, philosophy has an
indubitable prior