This dates [T.F. Hulme’s] poems between 1910 and 1912. Here is one of them:
A touch of cold in the autumn night
I walked abroad,
And saw the ruddy moon lean over a hedge
Like a red-faced farmer.
I did not stop to speak, but nodded,
And round about were the wistful stars
with white faces like town children.
If that is not a modern poem — but we must hurry on.
Cyril Connolly, The Break-Through in Modern Verse (Poetry Magazines)