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'The short and simple annals of the poor' seems like poetry, but only superficially, for it is not truth, but a fiction. It is false, for the annals of the aristocracy are not so long, neither are they so complex. "I am not trying to plead for anything. I am trying merely to express. Prepared for everything, I have forgiven everything, even myself.
So great was the craze for poetry and for glittering entertainments and a lavish display of wealth, that Don Jayme felt called upon to take some restraining measures.
"I would have given him twice as much myself not to have written it at all." Ernest was a little shocked. "At any rate," he said laughingly, "I don't write poetry." This was a cut at me, for my burlesques were, of course, written in rhyme. So I dropped the matter.
What a farce, he would cry, is all this poetry, philosophy, art, and culture, when millions of wretched mortals are doomed to the eternal darkness and crime of the city!
"He was a gentleman of spirit, and good looking, and held his head up when he walked, and had what you may call Fire about him:" adding, that he wrote poetry, rode, ran, cricketed, danced and acted, and "done it all equally beautiful."
Then he sat down in the middle of the floor and began to recite old Irish poetry, with an exquisite purity of intonation that brought tears to my eyes though I understood but little of the meaning. On our way home he gave me the Catholic theory of the fairies. When Lucifer saw himself in the glass he thought himself equal with God.
Poetry, he says, contains great and profitable fruits for the instruction of manners and precepts of good life . And he finds much profit even in the most dissolute works of Ovid and Martial because they abound in moral precepts. He does not, however, entirely discount the moral effect of example.
The foregoing letters have shown something of Miss Barrett's admiration for the poetry of Robert Browning, and contain allusions to the beginning of their personal acquaintance. Her knowledge of his poetry dates back to the appearance of 'Paracelsus, not to 'Pauline, of which there is no mention in her letters, and which had been practically withdrawn from circulation by the author.
And by thus arousing reminiscences in the hearer's mind, and adding the charm of poetry to that of music, he doubles the power and impressiveness of his art.
Marie sometimes sighs, at the end of a chapter; "these things that never happen!" "Thank Heaven," I cry. "Alas," she replies. Even when people live together they differ more than they think! At other times Marie reads to herself, quite silently. I surprise her absorbed in this occupation. It even happens that she applies herself thus to poetry.
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