Not that prose has power to conquer poetry, but that the languages are so hopelessly dissimilar.

They need an interpreter and the post is not a sinecure.
I want to try to throw a few dim sidelights on these Villagers whom I love and whom I know to be as alien to the average metropolitan consciousness and perception as though they were aboriginal representatives of interior and unexplored China.

They are perhaps chiefly strange because of their ridiculous and lovely simplicity.
The artistic instinct, or impulse, is not particularly rare.

Many persons have a real love for beautiful things, even a real aptitude for designing or reproducing them.

The creative instinct is something vastly different.