Tradition has named this little, green shelf on the rocks, "Kosciusko's
Garden;" but, as no traces have been discovered of any other than
Nature's plantings, it was probably merely his favorite retreat, and, as
such, is a monument of his taste and love of nature.
* * * * *
=_John Neal, 1793-._= (Manual, p. 510.)
From "Randolph."
=_289._= THE NATURE OF TRUE POETRY.
Poetry is the naked expression of power and eloquence; but, for many
hundred years, poetry has been confounded with false music, measure,
and cadence, the soul with the body, the thought with the language, the
manner of speaking with the mode of thinking.... What I call poetry,
has nothing to do with art or learning. It is a natural music, the
music of woods and waters, not that of the orchestra.... Poetry is
a religion, as well as a music. Nay, it is eloquence. It is whatever
affects, touches, or disturbs the animal or moral sense of man. I care
not how poetry may be expressed, nor in what language; it is still
poetry; as the melody of the waters, wherever they may run, in the
desert or the wilderness, among the rocks or the grass, will always be
melody.... It is not the composition of a master, the language of art,
painfully and entirely exact, but is the wild, capricious melody of
nature, pathetic or brilliant, like the roundelay of innumerable birds
whistling all about you, in the wind and water, sky and air, or the
coquetting of a river breeze over the fine string's of an Aeolian harp,
concealed among green, leaves and apple blossoms.
Pages:
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553