One of them, Mr.W.B.Yeats, by his birth and his reading in Irish legend and folklore, became possessed of a subject-matter denied to his fellows, and it is from the combination of the mood of the decadents with the dreaminess and mystery of Celtic tradition and romance--a combination which came to pass in his poetry--that the Celtic school has sprung.

In a sense it has added to the territory explored by Coleridge and Scott and Morris a new province.

Only nothing could be further from the objectivity of these men, than the way in which the Celtic school approaches its material.

Its stories are clear to itself, it may be, but not to its readers.

Deirdre and Conchubar, and Angus and Maeve and Dectora and all the shadowy figures in them scarcely become embodied.
Their lives and deaths and loves and hates are only a scheme on which they weave a delicate and dim embroidery of pure poetry--of love and death and old age and the passing of beauty and all the sorrows that have been since the world began and will be till the world ends.