It is pleasant to think of the ultimate appearance of Waring, flashed out for a moment on the sea, only to disappear.

In method, swiftness and colour, but done in verse, it is an impressionist picture, as vivid in transient scenery as in colour.

He did the same sort of work in poems of nature, of human life, of moments of passion, of states of the soul.

That is another reason why he was not read at first, and why he is read now.

He was impressionist long before Impressionism arrived.