ON THE MANUSCRIPTS OF GOD 



birds of the forest hover, knows how to call 

 forth all those throbbing, singing, sighing 

 words that wake the haunting echoes of 

 poetry, as they were wakened in Alfred 

 Noyes's poem on "Drake": 



"Bring on the pride and pomp of old Castile, 

 Blazon the skies with royal Aragon, 

 The purple pomp of priestly Rome bring on; 

 And let her censers dusk the dying sun, 

 The thunder of her banners on the breeze 

 Following Sidonia's glorious galleon 

 Deride the sleeping thunder of the seas, 

 While twenty thousand warriors chant her litanies." 



To the man who uses only the hardware 

 receptacles of thought and feeling, poetry 

 is only an unpractical habit of stringing 

 words together to make them rhyme; but the 

 poet is justified of his own, who know that 

 his verbal magnetism means a sensitive and 

 accurate perception of the chromatic tones 

 of thought and feeling produced by all the 

 reactions of life. 



The other profile of this fact was given 

 by some one (whose name I forget) who 

 said, "If you see deeply enough, you see 



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