It is but the result of writing with the understanding,
or with the instinct, that the tone, in composition, should always
be that which the mass of mankind would adopt- and must perpetually
vary, of course, with the occasion. The author who, after the
fashion of "The North American Review," should be upon all occasions
merely "quiet," must necessarily upon many occasions be simply
silly, or stupid; and has no more right to be considered "easy" or
"natural" than a Cockney exquisite, or than the sleeping Beauty in the
waxworks.
Among the minor poems of Bryant, none has so much impressed me as
the one which he entitles "June." I quote only a portion of it:-
There, through the long, long summer hours,
The golden light should lie,
And thick young herbs and groups of flowers
Stand in their beauty by.
The oriole should build and tell
His love-tale, close beside my cell;
The idle butterfly
Should rest him there, and there be heard
The housewife-bee and humming bird.
And what if cheerful shouts at noon,
Come, from the village sent,
Or songs of maids, beneath the moon,
With fairy laughter blent?
And what if, in the evening light,
Betrothed lovers walk in sight
Of my low monument?
I would the lovely scene around
Might know no sadder sight nor sound.
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