:©15 a MooblanJ) Spring 



struggling ! Phrases and phrases, old coin 

 reburnished — changing the figure, old 

 types regrouped. They can see nothing 

 new under the sun ; they grimace and show 

 the stress of their voluntary agbny. 



Betimes along comes an enthusiastic 

 boy by the name of John Keats, hailing 

 from a livery stable, later a surgeon's ap- 

 prentice, a tall, sickly, shy fellow with no 

 regular education, and before he is twenty- 

 five he writes the most perfect ode in his 

 country's literature, taking for subject a 

 bird which from the days of Sappho had 

 been the victim of all the singers. It 

 would seem impossible that this callow 

 stripling could make a single new phrase 

 on such a theme. Centuries ago the 

 nightingale became itself a note in the 

 hereditary cry of poets of the second 

 order. But mark how one of the first 

 order strikes a new chord from strings 

 worn to tatters over that ancient fret. 

 And, by the way, hear that thrush in the 

 green tangle, and the well-spring gurgling. 

 Sourd, sourd, bubble up, flow on forever, 

 sweet stream of song! 

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