kinds of poets, who attempt to imitate many aspects of human life. But surely our catalogue does not show just this. There is no multiform picture of the poet here. The pendulum of his desire vibrates undeviatingly between two points only. Sense and spirit, spirit and sense, the pulse of his nature seems to reiterate incessantly. There is no poet so absorbed in sensation that physical objects do not occasionally fade into unreality when he compares them with the spirit of life. Even Walt Whitman, most sensuous of all our poets, exclaims,
Sometimes how strange and clear to the soul That all these solid things are indeed but apparitions, concepts, non-realities.
[Footnote: _Apparitions_.]
On the other hand there is no poet whose taste is so purely spiritual that he is indifferent to sensation. The idealism of Wordsworth, even, did not preclude his finding in sensation
An appetite, a feeling and a love
That had no need of a remoter charm By thought supplied.
Is this systole and diastole of the affection from sense to spirit, from spirit to sense, peculiarly characteristic of English poets? There may be some reason for assuming that it is. Historians have repeatedly pointed out that there are two strains in the English blood, the one northern and ascetic, the other southern and epicurean. In the modern English poet the austere prophetic character of the Norse scald is wedded to the impressionability of the troubadour. No wonder there is a battle in his breast when he tries to single out one element or the other as his most distinctive quality of soul. Yet, were it not unsafe to generalize when our data apply to only one country, we should venture the assertion that the dualism of the poet’s desires is not an insular characteristic, but is typical of his race in every country.
Because the poet is drawn equally to this world and to the other world, shall we characterize him as a hybrid creature, and assert that an irreconcilable discord is in his soul? We shall prove ourselves singularly deaf to concord if we do so. Poets have been telling us over and over again that the distinctive element in the poetic nature is harmony. What is harmony? It is the reconciliation of opposites, says Eurymachus in the _Symposium_. It is union of the finite and the infinite, says Socrates in the _Philebus_. Do the poet’s desires point in opposite directions? But so, it seems, do the poplars that stand tiptoe, breathless, at the edge of the dreaming pool. The whole secret of the aesthetic repose lies in the duality of the poet’s desire. His imagination enables him to see all life as two in one, or one in two; he leaves us uncertain which. His imagination reflects the spiritual in the sensual and the sensual in the spiritual till we cannot tell which is the more tangible or the more meaningful. We sought unity in the poetic character, but we can reduce a nature to complete and barren unity only by draining it of imagination, and it is imagination which enables the poet to find aesthetic unity in the two worlds of sense and spirit, where the rest of us can see only conflict. There is a little poem, by Walter Conrad Arensberg, which is to me a symbol of this power of reflection which distinguishes the poetic imagination. It is called _Voyage a L’Infine_:
The swan existing
Is like a song with an accompaniment Imaginary.
Across the grassy lake,
Across the lake to the shadow of the willows It is accompanied by an image,
–as by Debussy’s
“Reflets dans l’eau.”
The swan that is
Reflects
Upon the solitary water–breast to breast With the duplicity:
“The other one!”
And breast to breast it is confused. O visionary wedding! O stateliness of the procession! It is accompanied by the image of itself Alone.
At night
The lake is a wide silence,
Without imagination.
But why should poets assume, someone may object, that this mystic answering of sense to spirit and of spirit to sense is to be discovered by the imagination of none but poets? All men are made up of flesh and spirit; do not the desires of all men, accordingly, point to the spiritual and to the physical, exactly as do the poet’s? In a sense; yes; but on the other hand all men but the poet have an aim that is clearly either physical or spiritual; therefore they do not stand poised between the two worlds with the perfect balance of interests which marks the poet. The philosopher and the man of religion recognize their goal as a spiritual and ascetic one. If they concern themselves more than is needful with the temporal and sensual, they feel that they are false to their ideal. The scientist and the man of affairs, on the other hand, are concerned with the physical; therefore most of the time they dismiss consideration of the spiritual as being outside of their province. Of course many persons would disagree with this last statement. The genius of an Edison, they assert, is precisely like the genius of a poet. But if this were true, we should be moved by the mechanism of a phonograph just as we are moved by a poem, and we are not. We may be amazed by the invention, and still find our thoughts tied to the physical world. It is not the instrument, but the voice of an artist added to it that makes us conscious of the two worlds of sense and spirit, reflecting one another.
Supposing that all this is true, what is gained by discovering, from a consensus of poets’ views, that the distinctive characteristic of the poet is harmony of sense and spirit? Is not this so obvious as to be a truism? It is perhaps so obvious that like all the truest things in the world it is likely to be ignored unless insisted upon occasionally. Certainly it has been ignored too frequently in the history of English criticism. Whenever men of simpler aims than the poet have written criticism, they have misread the issue in various ways, and have usually ended by condemning the poet in so far as he diverged from their own goal.
It is obvious that the moral obsession which has twisted so much of English criticism is the result of a failure to grasp the real nature of the poet’s vitality. Criticism arose, with Gosson’s _School of Abuse_, as an attack upon the ethics of the poet by the puritan, who had cut himself off from the joys of sense. Because champions of poetry were concerned with answering this attack, the bulk of Elizabethan criticism, that of Lodge, [Footnote: _Defense of Poetry, Musick and Stage Plays._] Harrington, [Footnote: _Apology for Poetry._] Meres, [Footnote: _Palladis Tamia._] Campion, [Footnote: _Observations in the Art of English Poetry._] Daniel, [Footnote: _Defense of Rhyme._] and even in lesser degree of Sidney, obscures the aesthetic problem by turning it into an ethical one.
In the criticism of Sidney, himself a poet, one does find implied a recognition of the twofold significance of the poet’s powers. He asserts his spiritual pre-eminence strongly, declaring that the poet, unlike the scientist, is not bound to the physical world.[Footnote: “He is not bound to any such subjection, as scientists, to nature.” _Defense of Poetry._] On the other hand he is clearly aware of the need for a sensuous element in poetry, since by it, Sidney declares, the poet may lead men by “delight” to follow the forms of virtue.
The next critic of note, Dryden, in his revulsion from the ascetic character which the puritans would develop in the poet, swung too far to the other extreme, and threw the poetic character out of balance by belittling its spiritual insight. He did justice to the physical element in poetry, defining poetic drama, the type of his immediate concern, as “a just and lively image of human nature, in its actions, passions, and traverses of fortune,” [Footnote: _English Garner,_ III, 513.] but he appears to have felt the ideal aspect of the poet’s nature as merely a negation of the sensual, so that he was driven to the absurdity of recommending a purely mechanical device, rhyme, as a means of elevating poetry above the sordid plane of “a bare imitation.” In the eighteenth century, Edmund Burke likewise laid too much stress upon the physical aspect of the poet’s nature, in accounting for the sublime in poetry as originating in the sense of pain, and the beautiful as originating in pleasure. Yet he comes closer than most critics to laying his finger onthe particular point which distinguishes poets from philosophers, namely, their dependence upon sensation.
With the single exception of Burke, however, the critics of the eighteenth century labored under a misapprehension no less blind than the moral obsession which twisted Elizabethan criticism. In the eighteenth century critics were prone to confuse the spiritual element in the poet’s nature with intellectualism, and the sensuous element with emotionalism. Such criticism tended to drive the poet either into an arid display of wit, on the one hand, or into sentimental excess, on the other, and the native English distrust of emotion led eighteenth century critics to praise the poet when the intellect had the upper hand. But surely poets have made it clear enough that the intellect is not the distinctive characteristic of the poet. To be intelligent is merely to be human. Intelligence is only a tool, poets have repeatedly insisted, in their quarrel with philosophers. In proportion as one is intelligent within one’s own field, one excels, poets would admit. If one is intelligent with respect to fisticuffs one is likely to become a good prize-fighter, but no matter how far refinement of intelligence goes in this direction, it will not make a pugilist into a poet. Intelligence must belong likewise, in signal degree, to the great poet, but it is neither one of the two essential elements in his nature. Augustan critics starved the spiritual element in poetry, even while they imagined that they were feeding it, for in sharpening his wit the poet came no nearer expressing the “poor soul, the center of his sinful earth” than when he reveled in emotion. We no longer believe that in the most truly poetic nature the intelligence of a Pope is joined with the emotionalism of a Rousseau. We believe that the spirituality of a Crashaw is blent with the sensuousness of a Swinburne.
Nineteenth century criticism, since it is almost entirely the work of poets, should not be thus at odds with the conception of the poet expressed in poetry. But although nineteenth century prose criticism moves in the right direction, it is not entirely adequate. The poet is not at his best when he is working in a prose medium. He works too consciously in prose, hence his intuitive flashes are not likely to find expression. After he has tried to express his buried life there, he himself is likely to warn us that what he has said “is well, is eloquent, but ’tis not true.” Even Shelley, the most successful of poet-critics, gives us a more vivid comprehension of the poetical balance of sense and spirit through his poet-heroes than through _The Defense of Poetry_, for he is almost exclusively concerned, in that essay, with the spiritual aspect of poetry. He expresses, in fact, the converse of Dryden’s view in that he regards the sensuous as negation or dross merely. He asserts:
Few poets of the highest class have chosen to exhibit the beauty of their conception in naked truth and splendor, and it is doubtful whether the alloy of costume, habit, etc., be not necessary to temper this planetary music to mortal ears.
The harmony in Shelley’s nature which made it possible for his contemporaries to believe him a gross sensualist, and succeeding generations to believe him an angel, is better expressed by Browning, who says:
His noblest characteristic I call his simultaneous perception of Power and Love in the absolute, and of beauty and good in the concrete, while he throws, from his poet-station between them both, swifter, subtler and more numerous films for the connection of each with each than have been thrown by any modern artificer of whom I have knowledge.[Footnote: Preface to the letters of Shelley (afterward found spurious).]
Yet Browning, likewise, gives a more illuminating picture of the poetic nature in his poetry than in his prose.
The peculiar merit of poetry about the poet is that it makes a valuable supplement to prose criticism. We have been tempted to deny that such poetry is the highest type of art. It has seemed that poets, when they are introspective and analytical of their gift, are not in the highest poetic mood. But when we are on the quest of criticism, instead of poetry, we are frankly grateful for such verse. It is analytical enough to be intelligible to us, and still intuitive enough to convince us of its truthfulness. Wordsworth’s _Prelude_ has been condemned in certain quarters as “a talking about poetry, not poetry itself,” but in part, at least, the _Prelude_ is truly poetry. For this reason it gives us more valuable ideas about the nature of poetry than does the _Preface to the Lyrical Ballads_. If it is worth while to analyze the poetic character at all, then poetry on the poet is invaluable to us.
Perhaps it is too much for us to decide whether the picture of the poet at which we have been gazing is worthy to be placed above Plato’s picture of the philosopher. The poet does not contradict Plato’s charge against him. His self-portrait bears out the accusation that he is unable to see “the divine beauty–pure and clear and unalloyed, not clogged with the pollutions of mortality, and all the colors and varieties of human life.” [Footnote: _Symposium_, 212.] Plato would agree with the analysis of the poetic character that Keats once struggled with, when he exclaimed,
What quality went to form a man of achievement, especially in literature, and which Shakespeare possessed so enormously–I mean _Negative Capability_, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason. Coleridge, for instance, would let go by a fine isolated verisimilitude caught from the Pentralium of mystery, from being incapable of remaining content with half-knowledge–With a great poet the sense of Beauty overcomes every other consideration, or rather obliterates all consideration.
Plato would agree with this,–all but the last sentence. Only, in place of the phrase “negative capability,” he would substitute “incapability,” and reflect that the poet fails to see absolute beauty because he is not content to leave the sensual behind and press on to absolute reality.
It may be that Plato is right, yet one cannot help wishing that sometime a poet may arise of greater power of persuasion than any with whom we have dealt, who will prove to Plato what he appears ever longing to be convinced of, that absolute ideality is not a negation of the sensual, and that poetry, in revealing the union of sense and spirit, is the strongest proof of idealism that we possess. A poet may yet arise who will prove that he is right in refusing to acknowledge that this world is merely a surface upon which is reflected the ideals which constitute reality and which abide in a different realm. The assumption in that conception is that, if men have spiritual vision, they may apprehend ideals directly, altogether apart from sense. On the contrary, the impression given by the poet is that ideality constitutes the very essence of the so-called physical world, and that this essence is continually striving to express itself through refinement and remolding of the outer crust of things. So, when the world of sense comes to express perfectly the ideal, it will not be a mere representation of reality. It will be reality. If he can prove this, we must acknowledge that, not the rationalistic philosopher, but the poet, grasps reality _in toto_.
However inconclusive his proof, the claims of the poet must fascinate one with their implications. The two aspects of human life, the physical and the ideal, focus in the poet, and the result is the harmony which is art. The fact is of profound philosophical significance, surely, for union of the apparent contradictions of the sensual and the spiritual can only mean that idealism is of the essence of the universe. What is the poetic metaphor but the revelation of an identical meaning in the physical and spiritual world? The sympathetic reader of poetry cannot but see the reflection of the spiritual in the sensual, and the sensual in the spiritual, even as does the poet, and one, as the other, must be by temperament an idealist.
INDEX
Addison, Joseph,
“A.E.” (see George William Russell), Aeschylus,
Agathon,
Akins, Zoe,
Alcaeus,
Aldrich, Anne Reeve,
Aldrich, Thomas Bailey,
Alexander, Hartley Burr,
Alexander, William,
Allston, Washington,
Ambercrombe, Lascelles,
Anderson, Margaret Steele,
Angelo, Michael,
Arensberg, Walter Conrad,
Aristotle,
Arnold, Edwin,
Arnold, Matthew,
his discontent;
on the poet’s death;
inspiration;
loneliness; morality;
religion;
usefulness;
youth;
his sense of superiority.
Arnold, Thomas,
Asquith, Herbert,
Austin, Alfred,
Bacon, Josephine Dodge Daskam,
Baker, Karle Wilson,
Baudelaire, Charles Pierre,
Beatrice,
Beattie, James,
Beddoes, Thomas Lovell,
Beers, Henry A.,
Benet, Stephen Vincent,
Benet, William Rose,
Bennet, William,
Binyon, Robert Lawrence,
Blake, William,
later poets on;
on inspiration;
on the poet as truthteller;
on the poet’s religion.
Blunden, Edmund,
Boccaccio,
Boker, George Henry,
Borrow, George,
Bowles, William Lisle,
Branch, Anna Hempstead,
Brawne, Fanny H.,
Bridges, Robert,
Bronte, Emily,
Brooke, Rupert,
Browne, T. E.,
Browning, Elizabeth Barrett,
appearance;
_Aurora Leigh_;
on Keats;
on the poet’s age;
content with his own time;
democracy;
eyes;
habitat;
health,
humanitarianism,
inferiority to his creations,
inspiration,
love,
morals,
pain,
personality,
religion,
resentment at patronage,
self-consciousness,
self-expression,
sex,
usefulness,
other poets on,
Browning, Robert,
on fame,
on inspiration,
on the poet’s beauty,
loneliness,
love,
morals,
persecutions,
pride,
religion,
self-expression,
sex,
superiority,
usefulness,
on Shakespeare,
on Shelley,
_Sordello_,
other poets on
Bryant, William Cullen
Buchanan, Robert
Bunker, John Joseph
Burke, Edmund
Burleigh, William Henry
Burnet, Dana
Burns, Robert,
his self-depreciation,
on the poet’s caste,
habitat,
inspiration,
love of liberty,
morals, persecutions,
poverty,
superiority,
other poets on
Burton, Richard
Butler, Samuel
Byron, Lord,
his body,
escape from himself in poetry,
friendship with Shelley,
indifference to fame,
later poets on,
his morals,
his mother,
his religion,
self-portraits in verse,
superiority,
on Tasso
Camoeens
Campbell, Thomas
Campion, Thomas
Candole, Alec de
Carlin, Francis
Carlyle, Thomas
Carman, Bliss
Carpenter, Rhys
Cary, Alice
Cary, Elisabeth Luther
Cassells, S. J.
Cavalcanti, Guido
Cawein, Madison
Cellini, Benvenuto
Cervantes
Chapman, George
Chatterton, Thomas
Chaucer, Geoffrey
Cheney, Annie Elizabeth
Chenier, Andre
Chesterton, Gilbert Keith
Chivers, Thomas Holley
Clare, John
Clough, Arthur Hugh
Coleridge, Hartley
Coleridge, Samuel Taylor,
appearance;
on Blake;
on Chatterton;
friendship with Wordsworth;
on the poet’s habitat;
health;
love;
morals;
reflection in nature;
religion;
youth;
usefulness;
later poets on
Collins, William,
Colonna, Vittoria,
Colvin, Sidney,
Conkling, Grace Hazard,
Cornwall, Barry (see Procter, Bryan Waller), Cowper, William,
Cox, Ethel Louise,
Crabbe, George,
Crashaw, Richard,
Cratylus,
Dana, Richard Henry,
Daniel, Samuel,
D’Annunzio, Gabriele,
Dante,
G.L. Raymond on;
Oscar Wilde on;
Sara King Wiley on;
Dargan, Olive,
David,
Davidson, John,
Davies, William Henry,
Dermody, Thomas,
Descartes,
Dickinson, Emily,
Dionysodorus,
Dobell, Sidney,
Dobson, Austin,
Dommett, Alfred,
Donne, John,
Dowden, Edward,
Dowson, Ernest,
Drake, Joseph Rodman,
Drinkwater, John,
Druce, C.J.,
Dryden, John,
Dunbar, Paul Laurence,
Dunroy, William Reed,
Dunsany, Lord Edward,
Dyer, Sidney,
Ehrman, Max,
Elijah,
Eliot, Ebenezer,
Eliot, George,
Emerson, Ralph Waldo,
his contempt for the public;
his democracy;
his humility;
on inspiration;
on love of fame;
on the poet’s divinity;
love;
morals;
poverty;
solitude;
usefulness
Euripedes,
Euthydemus,
Evans, Mrs. E.H.,
Fainier, C.H.,
Fairfield, S. L.,
Field, Eugene.,
Flecker, James Elroy,
Flint, F.S.,
French, Daniel Chester,
Freneau, Philip Morin,
Fuller, Frances,
Fuller, Metta,
Gage, Mrs. Frances,
Garnett, Richard,
Gibson, Wilfred Wilson,
Giddings, Franklin Henry,
Gilbert, Sir William Schwenek
Gilder, Richard Watson;
on Helen Hunt Jackson;
on Emma Lazarus;
on the poet’s age;
blindness;
inspiration;
morality;
normality;
poverty
Gillman, James
Giltinan, Caroline
Goethe
Gosse, Edmund
Gosson, Stephen
Graves, Robert
Gray, Thomas
Grenfil, Julian
Griffith, William
Guiterman, Arthur
Hake, Thomas Gordon
Halleck, Shelley
Halpine, Charles Graham
Hardy, Thomas
Harris, Thomas Lake
Harrison, Birge
Hayne, Paul Hamilton
Hazlitt, William
Hemans, Felicia
Henderson, Daniel
Henley, William Ernest
Herbert, George
Herrick, Robert
Hewlett, Maurice
Hildreth, Charles Latin
Hill, H.,
Hilliard, George Stillman
Hillyer, Robert Silliman
Hoffman, C. F.
Hogg, Thomas Jefferson
Holland, Josiah Gilbert
Holmes, Oliver Wendell
Homer
Hood, Thomas
Hooper, Lucy
“Hope, Lawrence” (see Violet
Nicolson)
Horne, Richard Hengest
Houghton, Lord
Houseman, Laurence
Hovey, Richard
Hubbard, Harvey
Hubner, Charles William
Hughes, John
Hugo, Victor
Hunt, Leigh
Ingelow, Jean
Jackson, Helen Hunt
Jameson, Mrs. Anna Brownell
Johnson, Donald F. Goold
Johnson, Lionel
Johnson, Robert Underwood,
Johnson, Rossiter
Johnson, Dr. Samuel
Jonson, Ben
Kaufman, Herbert
Keats, John;
his body;
on Burns;
Christopher North on;
on his desire for fame;
his egotism;
on Elizabethan poets;
on expression;
on the harmony of poets
Homer’s blindness;
on his indifference to the public; on inspiration;
later poets on Keats;
on love;
quarrel with philosophy;
on the poet’s democracy,
gift of prophecy,
habitat,
morals,
persecutions,
unpoetical character,
unobtrusiveness,
usefulness
Keble, John
Kemble, Frances Anne
Kent, Charles
Kenyon, James Benjamin
Kerl, Simon
Khayyam, Omar
Kilmer, Joyce
Kingsley, Charles
Kipling, Rudyard
Knibbs, Harry Herbert
Lamb, Charles
Landor, Walter Savage;
on Byron;
confidence in immortality;
on female poets;
on Homer;
on intoxication and inspiration;
on the poet’s age,
morals,
pride;
on poetry and reason;
on Shakespeare;
on Southey
Lang, Andrew
Lanier, Sidney
Larcom, Lucy
Laura
Lazarus, Emma
Ledwidge, Francis
Le Gallienne, Richard
Leonard, William Ellery
Lindsay, Vachel
Lockhart, John Gibson
Lodge, Thomas
Lombroso, Cesare
Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth;
his democracy;
on grief and poetry;
_Michael Angelo_;
on the poet’s morals,
solitude;
on the savage poet;
on inspiration
Longinus
Lord, William W.
Low, Benjamin R. C.
Lowell, Amy
Lowell, James Russell;
on Burns;
on the poet’s age,
divinity,
habitat,
inspiration,
usefulness
Lucan
Lucretius
Lytton, Bulwer, on Andre Chenier;
on the female poet;
on Milton;
on the poet’s appearance,
fame,
persecution,
usefulness
McDonald, Carl
Mackaye, Percy
Maclean, L. E.
“Macleod, Fiona” (see William Sharp) MacNiel, J. C.
Mann, Dorothea Lawrence
Mansfield, Richard
Map, Walter
Markham, Edwin
Marlowe, Christopher,
Alfred Noyes on,
Josephine Preston Peabody on,
Marquis, Don,
Masefield, John,
Massey, Gerald,
Masters, Edgar Lee,
Meres, Francis,
Meredith, George,
Meredith, Owen,
Meynell, Alice,
Meynell, Viola,
Middleton, Richard,
Millay, Edna St. Vincent,
Miller, Joaquin,
Milton, John,
Miriam,
Mitchell, L. E.,
Mitchell, Stewart
Mitford, Mary Russell,
Montgomery, James,
Moody, William Vaughan,
Moore, Thomas,
Morley, Christopher,
Morris, Lewis,
Morris, William,
Myers, Frederick W. H.
Naden, Constance, Nash, Thomas,
Neihardt, John Gneisenau,
Nero,
Nerval, Gerard de,
Newbolt, Henry,
Newman, Henry,
Newton, Sir Isaac,
Nicolson, Violet,
Nordau, Max Simon,
North, Christopher,
Noyes, Alfred,
O’Connor, Norreys Jephson,
Osborne, James Insley,
O’Sheel, Shaemus,
Otway, Thomas,
Pater, Walter,
Patmore, Coventry, on the
poet’s expression,
indifference to fame,
love,
morals,
religion,
usefulness
Payne, John,
Peabody, Josephine Preston,
Percival, James Gates,
Percy, William Alexander,
Petrarch,
Phidias,
Phillips, Stephen,
Phillpotts, Eden,
Pierce, C. A.,
Plato,
_Ion_,
_Phaedo_
_Philebus_,
_Phaedrus_,
_Republic_,
_Symposium_,
Poe, Edgar Allan,
Pollock, Robert,
Pope, Alexander,
Pound, Ezra,
Praed, Winthrop Mackworth
Price, C. Augustus
Procter, Adelaide Anne
Procter, Bryan Cornwall
Rand, Theodore Harding
Raphael
Raymond, George Lansing
Reade, Thomas Buchanan
Realf, Richard
Reno, Lydia M.
Rice, Cale Young
Rice, Harvey
Riley, James Whitcomb
Rittenhouse, Jessie
Rives, Hallie Erven
Robbins, Reginald Chauncey
Roberts, Cecil
Roberts, Charles George Douglas
Robinson, Edwin Arlington
Robinson, Mary
Rossetti, Christina
Rossetti, Dante Gabriel,
on Chatterton,
on Dante,
on Marston,
on the poet’s age,
expression,
inspiration,
love,
morals,
usefulness
Rousseau, Jean Jacques
Ruskin, John
Russell, George William
Ryan, Abram J.
Sampson, Henry Aylett
Sandburg, Carl
Sappho;
Alcaeus on,
modern poets on her genius,
on her passion
Savage, John
Saxe, John Godfrey
Scala, George Augustus
Schauffler, Robert Haven
Schiller, Johann Christoff Friedrich Scott, Sir Walter
Seeger, Alan
Service, Robert
Shairp, Principal
Shakespeare, William
Sharp, William
Shelley, Percy Bysshe,
and Byron,
on female poets,
his hostility to the public,
his indifference to his body,
on Keats,
on the poet’s early death,
habitat,
inspiration,
love,
madness,
loneliness,
morals,
persecutions,
poverty,
religion,
seership,
usefulness,
on prenatal life,
on Tasso
Shenstone, William
Sidney, Sir Philip
Sinclair, May
Smart, Christopher
Smith, Alexander,
Smith, J. Thorne, jr.,
Socrates,
Solomon,
Soran, Charles,
Southey, Robert,
Spenser, Edmund,
Sprague, E.L.,
Stedman, Edmund Clarence,
Stephens, James,
Stickney, Trumbull,
Stoddard, Charles Warren,
Sullivan, Sir Arthur,
Swinburne, Algernon,
chafing against moral restraints;
on Victor Hugo;
on Marston;
on his mother;
on the poet’s age;
love of liberty;
morals;
parentage;
religion;
usefulness;
on Christina Rossetti;
on Sappho;
on Shelley
Symons, Arthur,
Taine, Hippolyte Adolph,
Tannahill, John,
Tasso, Torquato,
Taylor, Bayard,
Teasdale, Sara,
Tennyson, Alfred,
burlesque on inspiration in wine;
his contempt for the public;
on the poet’s death;
expression;
inspiration;
intuitions;
love of liberty;
lovelessness;
morality;
pantheism;
persecution;
rank;
religion;
superiority to art;
usefulness
Tertullian, Thomas, Edith,
Thompson, Francis,
confidence in immortality;
humility;
on inspiration;
on love and poetry;
on Alice Meynell;
on Viola Meynell;
on the poet’s body;
expression;
grief;
habitat;
loneliness;
morals;
youth
Thomson, James,
Thomson, James (B.V.),
his atheism;
on Mrs. Browning;
on inspiration;
on pessimistic poetry;
on Platonic love;
on Shelley;
on Tasso;
on Weltschmerz
Timrod, Henry,
Tolstoi, Count Leo,
Towne, Charles Hanson,
Trench, Herbert,
Tupper, Martin Farquhar,
Van Dyke, Henry,
Vergil,
Verlaine, Paul Marie,
Villon, Francois,
Viviani, Emilia,
Waddington, Samuel
Ware, Eugene
Watts-Dunton, Theodore
Wesley, Charles
West, James Harcourt
Wheelock, John Hall
White, Kirke
Whitman, Walt;
confidence in immortality;
democracy;
on expression;
on the poet’s idleness,
inspiration,
morals,
normality,
protean nature,
love,
reconciling of man and nature;
on the poet-warrior;
his zest
Whittier, John Greenleaf
Wilde, Oscar, on Byron;
on Dante;
on Keats;
on love and art;
his morals;
on the poet’s prophecy;
on the uselessness of art
Wiley, Sara King
Winter, William
Woodberry, George Edward;
apology;
on friendship; on the poet’s love; on inspiration;
on Shelley
Wordsworth, William;
confidence in immortality;
on female poets;
his friendship with Coleridge;
on James Hogg;
on inspiration;
Keats’ annoyance with Wordsworth;
on love poetry;
on the peasant poet;
on the poet’s democracy,
habitat,
morals,
religion,
solitude;
the _Prelude_;
on prenatal life;
quarrel with philosophy;
repudiation of inspiration through wine Wright, Harold Bell
Yeats, William Butler
Young, Edmund