In no order, but as they come to me, for starters:
Hart Crane - The greatest poet of the 20th century, whose reputation has always been superseded by the likes of Eliot, Pound and Thomas. The only poet of the 20th century whose brilliance rivals that of Shelley, Whitman, Tennyson and Keats. Ignored on account of a readership brought up to be antagonistic towards any aspects of High Romanticism, however progressive, on account of the self-propagandistic 'criticism' of Eliot, among others, and like-minded editors responsible for turning modern poetry into the PC-agenda setting, nepotistic farce it has become. The Bridge, however much of a failure it is in places, is still one of the greatest long poems in our language. Equalled only by Swinburne in terms of his technical ear but with a corresponding emotional and intellectual range that is only found in Swinburne, who also makes my list, at that latter's very best.
Algernon Swinburne - His reputation was destroyed by Eliot, who also attempted to destroy the reputation of Blake in his so-called self-serving 'criticism' (Hell, the overrated vandal even had a go at Yeats, which at least he later admitted was an attempt to usurp Yeats' reputation out of envious rivalry!), and it will never be recovered. But he was one of the finest poets of the Late Romantic Victorian era, and ought to be recognised as such. Poems such as A Leave Taking, Felise and At a Month's End are among the most genuinely heartbreaking odes to lost, unrequited or unattainable love produced in any love poetry ever scribed.
Bruno Schulz - Tragically killed young by the Nazis, but wrote two absolute masterpieces beforehand, The Street of Crocodiles and Sanatorium Under the Sign of the Hourglass, which perfect what we term as 'magic realism' in prose that radiates at times an almost reiligious sense of poetry. Regarded cultishly in certain circles as an equal to his hero, Kafka, but mainly in his homeland Poland, and he ought elsewhere to be better known.
Olaf Stapledon - Most credit is given in terms of the development of early science fiction to HG Wells, a completely horrible and sometimes unreadable writer with no flair for structure or characterisation, without the same respect afforded to the visionary Stapledon, a man whose prose-poetic ruminations on man's place within the universe's blind destiny are among the most terrifying but exhilarating things written outside of Dante's La Commedia. Cognoscenti regard his masterworks, Last and First Men and the sublimely cosmic Star Maker as among the finest works of the twentieth century, and not just in the realm of science fiction, which is a term he abhorred: regarding himself foremost as a philosopher who used fiction to display man's possibilities, and to simultaneously mourn and celebrate his quest for a moral God.
Edited by The Killer Snark, 14 March 2014 - 07:37 AM.