The job of the poet is to render the world - to see it and
The job of the poet is to render the world - to see it and report it without loss, without perversion. No poet ever talks about feelings. Only sentimental people do.
Hear the voice of Mark Van Doren, teacher, critic, and poet, who spoke with the clarity of a prophet: “The job of the poet is to render the world—to see it and report it without loss, without perversion. No poet ever talks about feelings. Only sentimental people do.” At first, these words may startle, for are not poets thought of as singers of emotion, as heralds of the heart? Yet Van Doren strips away illusion to remind us of a deeper truth: that the poet’s task is not to wallow in emotion, but to reveal reality with such precision that emotion arises naturally in the reader. The poet does not proclaim feeling—he renders the world so faithfully that the truth of life itself awakens feeling in those who behold it.
The meaning is profound. To render the world is to observe, to see with the sharpest eye, to record with fidelity. The true poet is like a mirror, reflecting not himself but the world around him, with all its beauty, tragedy, and complexity. To lose nothing, to twist nothing—this is the highest calling of the artist. Feelings are not dismissed but are born in the reader, not in the poet’s declaration. Van Doren rebukes sentimentality, which shouts of feelings without substance, in favor of poetry, which reveals the thing itself and lets its meaning strike the heart unforced.
The ancients embodied this truth. Consider Homer, who told of battles, of ships upon the wine-dark sea, of gods walking among men. He did not cry out, “I feel sorrow for Hector.” Instead, he showed Hector bidding farewell to his wife and child, knowing he would soon die. From this image, truth and grief entered the hearts of listeners. The poet’s duty was not to describe his own emotions, but to render the world in such a way that all who saw it would feel. Thus Homer endured, while countless sentimental verses have perished like leaves in the wind.
History offers us more. Think of Bash?, the Japanese master of haiku. In three lines he could show us a frog leaping into a pond, or the moon rising over a quiet village. He never said, “I feel lonely” or “I feel joy.” He rendered the world with clarity, and in that rendering, the reader felt loneliness, or joy, or awe. This is what Van Doren meant: the poet’s art lies not in confessing feelings, but in showing life so vividly that truth itself awakens feelings within us.
And yet, there is danger here. Many mistake sentimentality for poetry, thinking that loud declarations of passion suffice. But sentimentality is a distortion, a weakness of vision that substitutes self-indulgence for truth. The sentimental writer tells us what to feel; the poet shows us what is, and trusts that truth will speak for itself. Van Doren’s words, then, are a warning against the false sweetness that corrodes art, and a call to fidelity in vision and rendering.
The lesson for us is this: whether we write or whether we live, our task is to see and to speak truth without distortion. Do not be quick to announce your feelings; instead, render the reality that evokes them. In speech, in writing, in art, and in daily life, let your honesty reveal the world. Let the beauty of a sunset, the silence of loss, the laughter of children stand as they are. In their truth lies more power than in any declaration.
Therefore remember Van Doren’s wisdom: the poet’s job is to render the world, not to proclaim feelings. Live as poets live—faithful to reality, patient in observation, precise in word and deed. Let truth itself awaken the hearts of those around you. For in the end, it is not sentimentality that endures, but truth; not indulgent feelings, but the clear rendering of the world as it is. And this, whether in verse or in life, is the highest art of all.
DTNhu Nguyen Duong Tam
Van Doren’s approach to poetry seems almost clinical, as though the poet is a detached observer. While I see the merit in focusing on clear, unembellished observations, can this approach really capture the depth of human experience? Do we risk losing the beauty of the personal, the passionate, or the deeply felt in poetry if we follow this strict idea of objectivity? Or does that make room for a different kind of truth in art?
DQNguyen Dang Quy
Van Doren's quote seems to dismiss emotional expression in poetry, but what about the idea that emotion often arises from the objective world itself? Can a poet truly separate the two? Perhaps it’s not that poets talk about feelings, but that their observations often evoke feelings in the reader. Could a poem focused purely on fact or observation be as impactful as one that conveys the complexity of human emotion?
LLena
I can appreciate Van Doren’s focus on precision in poetry, but I wonder if he underestimates the power of emotional expression in art. Sometimes feelings are what help us understand the world more deeply. Isn’t there value in a poet being able to express their feelings through the lens of an objective world? How do we balance the clarity of observation with the emotional resonance that connects us to a poem?
HNnguyen hoang nam
This quote by Van Doren makes me question the role of emotion in art. If poets are only meant to render the world without loss or distortion, how do they navigate the complex nature of human experience? Can a poem truly capture the essence of a moment or scene without any emotional input? Would this make poetry more universal, or would it lose its intimate, relatable quality?
NTDung Nguyen Tien
Van Doren’s statement challenges the common perception of poetry as an emotional outlet. He seems to be saying that the poet’s job is to observe and report rather than indulge in subjective emotions. But can a poet really distance themselves from feelings? Doesn’t every observation carry some level of personal interpretation or emotion, even if it's subtle? Could this perspective limit how we connect with poetry?