How is the best response to the essential life of a poem to be secured? I answer, by the fullest interpretative vocal rendering of it. Lecturing about poetry does not, of itself, avail any more for poetical cultivation than lecturing about music avails, of itself, for musical cultivation. Both may be valuable, in the way of giving shape to, or organizing, what has previously been felt to some extent; but they cannot take the place of inward experience. Vocal interpretation, too, is the most effective mode of cultivating a susceptibility to form— that unification of matter and manner upon which so much of the vitality and effectiveness of expressed spiritualized thought depend.

-Professor Hiram Corson, English in American Universities, page 62.

Perhaps the best way of endeavoring to indicate * * that a special passage is nobly poetical is to read it aloud with such sympathy that no one can listen without a feeling of delight. It is greatly to be hoped that no teacher will refrain from reading poetry aloud to his classes because of the feeling that he is not a good reader. He may not be a trained elocutionist, but some people feel that that is an advantage rather than a disadvantage, and if he really enjoys what he reads, he can usually give his audience what it craves most,— reading that is at least sympathetic. -Professor W. P. Trent, English Classics, page 17.

It should be considered that in poetry, as in painting, different artists have different modes of presenting their conceptions, each of which may possess its peculiar merit. The varieties of poetic excellence are as great as the varieties of beauty in flowers or in the female face. There is no poet, indeed no author in any department of literature, who can be taken as a standard in judging of others; the true standard is an ideal one, and even this is not the same in all men's minds. One delights in grace, another in strength; one in a fiery vehemence and enthusiasm on the surface, another in majestic repose and the expression of feeling too deep to be noisy; one loves simple and obvious images strikingly employed, or familiar thoughts placed in a new light;

another is satisfied only with novelties of thought and expression, with uncommon illustrations and images far sought. It is certain that each of these modes of treating a subject may have its peculiar merit, and that it is absurd to require of those whose genius inclines them to one, that they should adopt its opposite, or to set one down as inferior to another because he is not of the same class. -William Cullen Bryant,

Introduction to his Library of Poetry and Song.

Read each poem straight through aloud with a view to comprehending its "central thought" or message. What is this thought? In what lines, if any, is it best expressed? Are there important secondary truths? Is the thought original and worthy in itself, or does its effectiveness depend largely upon the author's way of saying it and his special application of it? Perhaps you will decide that both thought and expression are important. Matthew Arnold declares that our best poetry is marked by truth and seriousness in matter united to superiority of diction and movement. Again he says, "the greatness of a poet lies in his powerful and beautiful application of ideas to life." To what extent does the particular poem under consideration, Thanatopsis for example, or To a Waterfowl, stand this test? What was Bryant's theory of poetry? See the quotation on page 13 of this bulletin and read The Poet. Is his conception a worthy one? How is it exemplified in his own verse? It is said that Bryant's excellencies are best seen in his presentation of two favorite ideas, (1) Eternal change, (2) Love of nature. how many of his poems do you find these ideas? In the case of his own personal losses and sorrows, notice the intimate blending with his favorite themes. How many of his poems are concerned with death? Is it true that if a single name were sought for his collected works, the title might well be "Glimpses of the Grave"? Consider the tone of his verse. Is it morbid, unhealthy, unduly melancholy, marked by gloomy horrors? Are the qualities rather those of serenity, gravity of thought, a solemn recognition of eternal change and of the mortality of mankind? Is he moody and depressed at the thought of death, or is he rather nobly serious, accept

In

ing it as part of nature's universal plan? It may be well to note what Poe said in this connection. In a favorable review of Bryant's June he wrote: "The impression left is one of a pleasurable sadness. This certain taint of sadness is inseparably connected with all the higher manifestations of true beauty." In like manner Shelley writes: "Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought." What is your own view in this matter? Consider your favorite poems— is there a touch of sadness in them? To properly appreciate the noble seriousness of Bryant's poetry, one should read some of the sepulchral utterances of the minor eighteenth century English poets. Blair's Grave, said to have suggested Thanatopsis, will perhaps suffice. The turgidity, pompousness, and insincerity of much of this eighteenth century writing should also be noted. Exceptions, however, are not to be overlooked, such for example, as Collins's How Sleep the Brave, and Gray's justly famous Elegy. Is Bryant more purely descriptive than other poets? Does he seem to take pleasure in describing nature for its own sake, or does he use natural description as a setting or framework for man? Or would you say that his best poetry is a blending of the human and the nature elements? Are there any poems that appeal to you only or chiefly for their diction and movement? How does Bryant compare with Poe in this respect? An interesting comparison may be made of these two poets. They were Americans and contemporaries. Both were journal

ists. Both spent most of their later life in our large cities. With each poetry was an avocation rather than a vocation, differing in this respect from Wordsworth, Byron, Shelley, Tennyson, and Browning. Both confined themselves to writing short poems. Are there other points of similarity? What are the marked differences? Bryant is said to have held with Poe that a long poem is an impossibility. Does he part company with Poe in the latter's protest against didacticism? The reader should be on his guard here against accepting the oft-quoted statement attributed to Poe that poetry has no concern whatever either with duty or with truth.

Read carefully the whole of Poe's The Poetic Principle. In matters of this kind be honest, be just. Get your criticism at first hand, from the author himself, and even under these circumstances try honestly to get the whole truth. The accompanying explanation often materially modifies a bald statement of fact. Such statements can be rightly interpreted only when studied in their proper context. Hold fast to this in all your study and writing. Keeping in mind the main divisions of poetry-epic, lyric, dramatic, ballad,—in what division does most of Bryant's poetry fall? How much of his poetry may be said to be didactic-teaching some truth or system of truth? The term didacticism is apt to suggest a quality foreign to real poetry. In truth, applied to poetry, the word is misleading. Verse purely or essentially didactic -Pope's Essay on Criticism, or his Essay on Man, for example,—cannot rightfully be called poetry. Such writings may be more properly termed rhymed essays. But it is none the less true that it is the mission of poetry "to interpret life for us, to console us, to sustain us.'' And it is not to be forgotten that poetic insight may make even didacticism attractive and imaginative. Witness Wordsworth's Ode to Duty and his Primrose of the Rock. The reader who is interested in this subject should read the whole of Arnold's essay The Study of Poetry, and Bliss Carman's The Purpose of Poetry. See "List of Helpful Books", page 168. In this connection it may be well to consider Bryant's manner of pointing a moral lesson. See, for example, To a Waterfowl, The Yellow Violet, The Fringed Gentian, The Conqueror's Grave, The BattleField, and other poems of your own choosing. Do these appear to have been written with a didactic purpose or are the moral truths rather incidental accompaniments?

The comparison suggested in the case of Poe may be extended. How was Bryant like and unlike Emerson? Byron? Wordsworth? He is said to be the metrical supplement of James Fenimore Cooper. Can you explain? There is a wonderful difference between the poems written by Tennyson in his earlier years and his Idylls of the King—the product of his

maturer genius. Does this hold true in the case of Bryant! The effect of Longfellow's travels and study in the old world is plainly apparent in his poetry. Bryant was an eager and extensive traveller. How do you explain the fact that his travels are so little reflected in his poetry? How many references do you find to mythology? To the geography, history, art, literature, manners and customs of other lands? Are there "poems of occasion" such as Lowell's Commemoration Ode, or Tennyson's Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington, or the many verses written on commemorative occasions by Holmes? For fifty years Bryant was an active participant in public and political life. How much of all this is to be seen in his poetry? Compare him with Lowell in this respect. Did he, like the New England poets, write many poems on his contemporaries? How many narrative poems did he write? Would you say that his descriptions are characterized by scientific exactness? By delicacy and minuteness of observation? If not-are there compensating characteristics? What were his limitations as to mood, passion, variety and facility of expression? Compared with Holmes and Lowell, what quality was lacking? With Whittier? Consider the kinds, forms, metre, movement, dictionof his poetry. What conclusion do you reach as to Bryant's limitations? On the subject of Bryant's limitations, Stedman has something to say. (Poets of America, pages 69-71.)

A note of warning may not be out of place here. Arnold's famous definition of criticism-"a disinterested endeavor to learn and propagate the best that is known and thought in the world"-may well guide us in our critical studies. Time is too precious to spend much of it in either poetical slumming or in captious mote seeking. It is "a clearer sense of the best in poetry, and of the strength and joy to be drawn from it," that should most concern us. Not the defective and the contorted, but the beautiful and the good, is our end and aim. Bryant, himself, has well summed up the whole matter. "In judging of poetry," he writes, "the main office of criticism is to discover beauties, for it is these only which