I came across an essay written by T.E Hulme who was a modernist. He was well known as a critic and philosopher in the twentieth century. I have included an excerpt below. I found it pretty amusing:

On Romanticism and Classicism

“The classical poet never forgets this finiteness, this limit of man. He remembers that he is mixed up with earth. He may jump, but he always returns back; he never flies away into the circumambient gas”.

“You may say if you wished that the whole of the romantic attitude seems to crystallize in verse round metaphors of flight. Romantic poets are always flying, flying over abysses, flying up into the eternal gases. The word infinite in every other line”.