POETRY AND LIFE
=Poetry defined.=--Poetry has been defined as "a message from the heart
of the artist to the heart of the man"; and, seeing that the heart is
the center and source of life, it follows that poetry is a means of
effecting a transfusion of life. The poet ponders life long and deeply
and then gives forth an interpretation in artistic form that is
surcharged with the very quintessence of life. The poet absorbs life
from a thousand sources--the sky, the forest, the mountain, the sunrise,
the ocean, the storm, the child in the mother's arms, and the man at his
work, and then transmits it that the recipient may have a new influx of
life. The poet's quest is life, his theme is life, and his gift to man
is life. His mission is to gain a larger access of life and to give life
in greater abundance. He gains the meaning of life from the snowflake
and the avalanche; from the grain of sand and the fertile valley; from
the raindrop and the sea; from the chirp of the cricket and the crashing
of the thunder; from the firefly and the lightning's flash; and from
Vesuvius and Sinai. To know life he listens to the baby's prattle, the
mother's lullaby, and the father's prayer; he looks upon faces that show
joy and sorrow, hope and despair, defeat and triumph; and he feels the
pulsations of the tides, the hurricane, and the human heart.
=How the poet learns life.=--He sits beside the bed of sickness and
hears the feeble and broken words that tell of the past, the present,
and the future; he visits the field of battle and sees the wreckage of
the passions of men; he goes into the dungeon and hears the ravings and
revilings of a distorted soul; he visits pastoral scenes where peace and
plenty unite in a song of praise; he rides the mighty ship and knows the
heartbeats of the ocean; he sits within the church and opens the doors
of his soul to its holy influences; he enters the hovel whose squalor
proclaims it the abode of ignorance and vice; he visits the home of
happiness where industry and frugality pour forth their bounteous gifts
and love sways its gentle scepter; and he sits at the feet of his mother
and imbibes her gracious spirit.
=Transfusion of life.=--And then he writes; and as he writes his pen
drips life. He knows and feels, and, therefore, he expresses, and his
words are the distillations of life. His spiritual percipience has
rendered his soul a veritable garden of emotions, and with his pen he
transplants these in the written page. And men see and come to pluck the
flowers to transplant again in their own souls that they, too, may have
a garden like unto his. His _élan_ carries over into the lives of these
men and they glow with the ardor of his emotions and are inspired to
deeds of courage, of service, and of solace. For every flower plucked
from his garden another grows in its stead more beautiful and more
fragrant than its fellow, and he is reinspired as he inspires others.
And thus in this transfusion of life there is an undertow that carries
back into his own life and makes his spirit more fertile.
=Aspiration.=--When he would teach men to aspire he writes "Excelsior"
and so causes them to know that only he who aspires really lives. They
see the groundling, the boor, the drudge, and the clown content to dwell
in the valley amid the loaves and fishes of animal desires, while the
man who aspires is struggling toward the heights whence he may gain an
outlook upon the glories that are, know the throb and thrill of new
life, and experience the swing and sweep of spiritual impulses. He makes
them to know that the man who aspires recks not of cold, of storm, or of
snow, if only he may reach the summit and lave his soul in the glory
that crowns the marriage of earth and sky. They feel that the aspirant
is but yielding obedience to the behests of his better self to scale the
heights where sublimity dwells.
=Perseverance.=--Or he writes the fourth "Æneid" to make men feel that
the palm of victory comes only to those who persevere to the end; that
duty does not abdicate in favor of inclination; and that the high gods
will not hold guiltless the man who stops short of Italy to loiter and
dally in Carthage even in the sunshine of a Dido's smile. When Italy is
calling, no siren song of pleasure must avail to lure him from his
course, nor must his sail be furled until the keel grates upon the
Italian shore. His navigating skill must guide him through the perils of
Scylla and Charybdis and the stout heart of manhood must bear him past
Mount Ætna's fiery menace. His dauntless courage must brave the anger of
the greedy waves and boldly ride them down. Nor must his cup of joy be
full until the wished-for land shall greet his eager eyes.
=Overweening ambition.=--Or, again, the poet may yearn to teach the
wrong of overweening, vaulting ambition and he writes "Paradise Lost"
and "Recessional." He pictures Satan overthrown, like the Giants who
would climb into the throne on Olympus. He pictures Hell as the fitting
place for Satan overthrown, and in his own place he pictures the outcast
and downcast Satan writhing and cursing because he was balked of his
unholy ambition. And, lest mortals sink from their high estate, borne
down by their sins of unsanctified ambition, he prays, and prays again,
"Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, lest we forget, lest we forget." And
the prayer echoes and reëchoes in the soul of the man, and the world
sees his lips moving in the prayer of the poet, "Lest we forget, lest we
forget."
=Native land.=--Or, again, he writes Bannockburn and the spirit is fired
with patriotic devotion to native land. We hear the bagpipe and the drum
and see the martial clans gathering in serried ranks and catch the glint
of their arms and armor as they flash back the sunlight. We hear their
lusty calls as they rush together to defend the hills and the homes they
love. We see, again, the Wallace and the Bruce inciting valorous men to
deeds of heroism and hear the hills reëchoing with the shock of steel
upon steel. From hill to hill the pibroch leaps, and hearts and feet
quicken at its sound. And mothers are pressing their bairns to their
bosoms as they cheer their loved ones away to the strife. And while
their eyes are weeping their hearts are saying:
"Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha so base as be a slave?
Let him turn and flee!"
=Faith.=--And after the sounds of battle are hushed he sings "To Mary in
Heaven" and causes the man to stand in the presence of the Burning Bush
and to hear the command "Put off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the
place whereon thou standest is holy ground." And the heart of the man
grows tender as the poet opens his eyes to catch a glimpse of the life
of faith that the star foretells even as the Star of Bethlehem was
prophetic. And, through the eyes of the lover, he looks over into the
other life and knows that his faith is not in vain. And when faith sits
enthroned, the music of the brook at his feet becomes sweeter, the stars
shine more brightly, the earth becomes a place of gladness, and life is
far more worth while. The poet has caused the scales to fall from his
eyes and through them the light of Heaven has streamed into his soul.
=The teacher's influx of life.=--And the teacher imbibes the spirit of
the poet and becomes vital and thus becomes attuned to all life. Flowers
spring up in her pathway because they are claiming kinship with the
flowers that are blooming in her soul. The insect chirps forth its
music, and her own spirit joins in the chorus of the forest. The
brooklet laughs as it ripples its way toward the sea, and her spirit
laughs in unison because the poet has poured his laughter into her soul.
She stands unafraid in the presence of the storm because her feeling for
majesty overmasters her apprehension of danger. The lightning's flash
may rend the oak but, even so, she stands in mute admiration at this
wondrous manifestation of life. Her quickened spirit responds to the
roll and reverberation of the thunder because she has grown to womanhood
through the poet's copious draughts of life.
=The book of life.=--The voices of the night enchant her and the stars
take her into their counsels. The swaying tree speaks her language
because both speak the language of life. She takes delight in the
lexicon of the planets because it interprets to her the book of life,
and in the revelations of this book she finds her chief joy. For her
there are no dull moments whether she wanders by the river, through the
glades, or over the hills, because she is ever turning the pages of this
book. She moves among the things of life and accounts them all her
friends and companions. She knows their moods and their language and
with them holds intimate communion. They smile upon her because she can
reciprocate their smiles. Life to her is a buoyant, a joyous experience
each hour of the day because the poet has poured into her spirit its
fuller, deeper meanings.
=The teaching.=--And because the poet has touched her spirit with the
wand of his power the waters of life gush forth in sparkling abundance.
And children come to the fountain of her life and drink of its waters
and are thereby refreshed and invigorated. Then they smile back their
gratitude to her in their exuberance of joyous life.
QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES
1. What is poetry?
2. What is the purpose of rhyme?
3. May writing have the essentials of poetry and yet have no regular
rhythm? What of the Psalms?
4. Why is poetry especially valuable to the teacher?
5. Show how some poem other than those mentioned in the chapter teaches
a lesson or gives an inspiration.
6. Name, if you can, some methods of treatment that cause poetry to fail
to affect the lives of the pupils as it should.
7. Suggest uses of poetry and the treatment that will insure the right
results.
8. Is there danger that a teacher may become too appreciative or
susceptible--too poetic in temperament? Recall observations of those who
were either too much so or too little.
9. Is there danger that one may have too much of a good quality, or is
the danger not in having too little of some other quality?
10. Show how a wide and appreciative reading of poetry makes for a
proper balance of temperament.