Divine Poet.--The Poet, although he paints the passions, nevertheless
will hit them best at that period of life when his own, have
slackened,--just as convex mirrors, precisely in those summers when the
sun burned the faintest, have acted the most intensely, and in the hot
ones the least so. The flowers of poesy are like other flowers, which
(according to Ingenhouse) thrive best in a dim, hazy sunlight.