wagingwaruponVicesolelyonthegroundofherdeformityherdisproportionheranimositytothefitting，totheappropriate，totheharmoniousinaword，toBeauty。
AnimmortalinstinctdeepwithinthespiritofmanisthusplainlyasenseoftheBeautiful。Thisitiswhichadministerstohisdelightinthemanifoldforms，andsounds，andodorsandsentimentsamidwhichheexists。
Andjustasthelilyisrepeatedinthelake，ortheeyesofAmaryllisinthemirror，soisthemereoralorwrittenrepetitionoftheseforms，andsounds，andcolors，andodors，andsentimentsaduplicatesourceofde“
light。Butthismererepetitionisnotpoetry。Hewhoshallsimplysing，withhoweverglowingenthusiasm，orwithhowevervividatruthofdescription，ofthesights，andsounds，andodors，andcolors，andsentimentswhichgreet_him_incommonwithallmankindhe，Isay，hasyetfailedtoprovehisdivinetitle。Thereisstillasomethinginthedistancewhichhehasbeenunabletoattain。Wehavestillathirstunquenchable，toallaywhichhehasnotshownusthecrystalsprings。ThisthirstbelongstotheimmortalityofMan。Itisatonceaconsequenceandanindicationofhisperennialexistence。Itisthedesireofthemothforthestar。ItisnomereappreciationoftheBeautybeforeus，butawildefforttoreachtheBeautyabove。Inspiredbyanecstaticprescienceofthegloriesbeyondthegrave，westrugglebymultiformcombinationsamongthethingsandthoughtsofTimetoattainaportionofthatLovelinesswhoseveryelementsperhapsappertaintoeternityalone。AndthuswhenbyPoetry，orwhenbyMusic，themostentrancingofthepoeticmoods，wefindourselvesmeltedintotears，weweepthen，notastheAbbateGravinasupposes，throughexcessofpleasure，butthroughacertainpetulant，impatientsorrowatourinabilitytograspnow，wholly，hereonearth，atonceandforever，thosedivineandrapturousjoysofwhich_through’_thepoem，or_through_themusic，weattaintobutbriefandindeterminateglimpses。
ThestruggletoapprehendthesupernalLovelinessthisstruggle，onthepartofsoulsfittinglyconstitutedhasgiventotheworldall_that_whichittheworldhaseverbeenenabledatoncetounderstandand_tofeel_aspoetic。
ThePoeticSentiment，ofcourse，maydevelopitselfinvariousmodesinPainting，inSculpture，inArchitecture，intheDanceveryespeciallyinMusicandverypeculiarly，andwithawidefield，inthecompositionoftheLandscapeGarden。Ourpresenttheme，however，hasregardonlytoitsmanifestationinwords。Andhereletmespeakbrieflyonthetopicofrhythm。ContentingmyselfwiththecertaintythatMusic，initsvariousmodesofmetre，rhythm，andrhyme，isofsovastamomentinPoetryasnevertobewiselyrejectedissovitallyimportantanadjunct，thatheissimplysillywhodeclinesitsassistance，Iwillnotnowpausetomaintainitsabsoluteessentiality。ItisinMusicperhapsthatthesoulmostnearlyattainsthegreatendforwhich，wheninspiredbythePoeticSentiment，itstrugglesthecreationofsupernalBeauty。
It_may_be，indeed，thatherethissublimeendis，nowandthen，attainedin_fact。_Weareoftenmadetofeel，withashiveringdelight，thatfromanearthlyharparestrickennoteswhich_cannot_havebeenunfamiliartotheangels。AndthustherecanbelittledoubtthatintheunionofPoetrywithMusicinitspopularsense，weshallfindthewidestfieldforthePoeticdevelopment。TheoldBardsandMinnesingershadadvantageswhichwedonotpossessandThomasMoore，singinghisownsongs，was，inthemostlegitimatemanner，perfectingthemaspoems。
Torecapitulatethen：Iwoulddefine，inbrief，thePoetryofwordsas_TheRhythmicalCreationofBeauty。_ItssolearbiterisTaste。WiththeIntellectorwiththeConscienceithasonlycollateralrelations。
Unlessincidentally，ithasnoconcernwhatevereitherwithDutyorwithTruth。
Afewwords，however，inexplanation。_That_pleasurewhichisatoncethemostpure，themostelevating，andthemostintense，isderived，I
maintain，fromthecontemplationoftheBeautiful。InthecontemplationofBeautywealonefinditpossibletoattainthatpleasurableelevation，orexcitement_ofthesoul，_whichwerecognizeasthePoeticSentiment，andwhichissoeasilydistinguishedfromTruth，whichisthesatisfactionoftheReason，orfromPassion，whichistheexcitementoftheheart。ImakeBeauty，thereforeusingthewordasinclusiveofthesublimeImakeBeautytheprovinceofthepoem，simplybecauseitisanobviousruleofArtthateffectsshouldbemadetospringasdirectlyaspossiblefromtheircauses：nooneasyethavingbeenweakenoughtodenythatthepeculiarelevationinquestionisatleast_mostreadily_attainableinthepoem。Itbynomeansfollows，however，thattheincitementsofPassion’orthepreceptsofDuty，oreventhelessonsofTruth，maynotbeintroducedintoapoem，andwithadvantage；fortheymaysubserveincidentally，invariousways，thegeneralpurposesofthework：butthetrueartistwillalwayscontrivetotonethemdowninpropersubjectiontothat_Beauty_whichistheatmosphereandtherealessenceofthepoem。
IcannotbetterintroducethefewpoemswhichIshallpresentforyourconsideration，thanbythecitationoftheProemtoLongfellow’s“Waif“：
Thedayisdone，andthedarknessFallsfromthewingsofNight，AsafeatheriswafteddownwardFromanEagleinhisflight。
IseethelightsofthevillageGleamthroughtherainandthemist，Andafeelingofsadnesscomeso’erme，Thatmysoulcannotresist；
Afeelingofsadnessandlonging，Thatisnotakintopain，AndresemblessorrowonlyAsthemistresemblestherain。
Come，readtomesomepoem，Somesimpleandheartfeltlay，Thatshallsoothethisrestlessfeeling，Andbanishthethoughtsofday。
Notfromthegrandoldmasters，Notfromthebardssublime，WhosedistantfootstepsechoThroughthecorridorsofTime。
For，likestrainsofmartialmusic，TheirmightythoughtssuggestLife’sendlesstoilandendeavor；
Andto-nightIlongforrest。
Readfromsomehumblerpoet，Whosesongsgushedfromhisheart，Asshowersfromthecloudsofsummer，Ortearsfromtheeyelidsstart；
Whothroughlongdaysoflabor，Andnightsdevoidofease，StillheardinhissoulthemusicOfwonderfulmelodies。
SuchsongshavepowertoquietTherestlesspulseofcare，AndcomelikethebenedictionThatfollowsafterprayer。
ThenreadfromthetreasuredvolumeThepoemofthychoice，AndlendtotherhymeofthepoetThebeautyofthyvoice。
Andthenightshallbefilledwithmusic，AndthecaresthatinfestthedayShallfoldtheirtentsliketheArabs，Andassilentlystealaway。
Withnogreatrangeofimagination，theselineshavebeenjustlyadmiredfortheirdelicacyofexpression。Someoftheimagesareveryeffective。Nothingcanbebetterthan-
thebardssublime，WhosedistantfootstepsechoDownthecorridorsofTime。
Theideaofthelastquatrainisalsoveryeffective。Thepoemonthewhole，however，ischieflytobeadmiredforthegraceful_insouciance_ofitsmetre，sowellinaccordancewiththecharacterofthesentiments，andespeciallyforthe_ease_ofthegeneralmanner。This“ease“ornaturalness，inaliterarystyle，ithaslongbeenthefashiontoregardaseaseinappearancealoneasapointofreallydifficultattainment。
Butnotso：anaturalmannerisdifficultonlytohimwhoshouldnevermeddlewithittotheunnatural。Itisbuttheresultofwritingwiththeunderstanding，orwiththeinstinct，that_thetone，_incomposition，shouldalwaysbethatwhichthemassofmankindwouldadoptandmustperpetuallyvary，ofcourse，withtheoccasion。Theauthorwho，afterthefashionof“TheNorthAmericanReview。”shouldbeupon_all_occasionsmerely“quiet。”mustnecessarilyupon_many_occasionsbesimplysilly，orstupid；andhasnomorerighttobeconsidered“easy“or“natural“thanaCockneyexquisite，orthanthesleepingBeautyinthewaxworks。
AmongtheminorpoemsofBryant，nonehassomuchimpressedmeastheonewhichheentitles“June。”Iquoteonlyaportionofit：
There，throughthelong，longsummerhours，Thegoldenlightshouldlie，AndthickyoungherbsandgroupsofflowersStandintheirbeautyby。
TheorioleshouldbuildandtellHislove-tale，closebesidemycell；
TheidlebutterflyShouldresthimthere，andtherebeheardThehousewife-beeandhummingbird。
Andwhat，ifcheerfulshoutsatnoon，Come，fromthevillagesent，Orsongsofmaids，beneaththemoon，Withfairylaughterblent？
Andwhatif，intheeveninglight，BetrothedloverswalkinsightOfmylowmonument？
IwouldthelovelyscenearoundMightknownosaddersightnorsound。
Iknow，IknowIshouldnotseeTheseason’sgloriousshow，Norwoulditsbrightnessshineforme；
Noritswildmusicflow；
Butif，aroundmyplaceofsleep，ThefriendsIloveshouldcometoweep，Theymightnothastetogo。
Softairsandsong，andthelightandbloom，Shouldkeepthemlingeringbymytomb。
Thesetotheirsoften’dheartsshouldbearThethoughtsofwhathasbeen，AndspeakofonewhocannotshareThegladnessofthescene；
WhosepartinallthepompthatfillsThecircuitofthesummerhills，Isthathisgraveisgreen；
AnddeeplywouldtheirheartsrejoiceTohearagainhislivingvoice。
Therhythmicalflowhereisevenvoluptuousnothingcouldbemoremelodious。Thepoemhasalwaysaffectedmeinaremarkablemanner。Theintensemelancholywhichseemstowellup，perforce，tothesurfaceofallthepoet’scheerfulsayingsabouthisgrave，wefindthrillingustothesoulwhilethereisthetruestpoeticelevationinthethrill。Theimpressionleftisoneofapleasurablesadness。Andif，intheremainingcompositionswhichIshallintroducetoyou，therebemoreorlessofasimilartonealwaysapparent，letmeremindyouthathoworwhyweknownotthiscertaintaintofsadnessisinseparablyconnectedwithallthehighermanifestationsoftrueBeauty。Itis，nevertheless，AfeelingofsadnessandlongingThatisnotakintopain，AndresemblessorrowonlyAsthemistresemblestherain。
ThetaintofwhichIspeakisclearlyperceptibleeveninapoemsofullofbrilliancyandspiritas“TheHealth“ofEdwardCoatePinckney：
IfillthiscuptoonemadeupOflovelinessalone，Awoman，ofhergentlesexTheseemingparagon；
TowhomthebetterelementsAndkindlystarshavegivenAformsofairthat，liketheair，’Tislessofearththanheaven。
Hereverytoneismusic’sown，Likethoseofmorningbirds，AndsomethingmorethanmelodyDwellseverinherwords；
Thecoinageofherheartarethey，AndfromherlipseachflowsAsonemayseetheburden’dbeeForthissuefromtherose。
Affectionsareasthoughtstoher，Themeasuresofherhours；
Herfeelingshavetheflagrancy，Thefreshnessofyoungflowers；
Andlovelypassions，changingoft，Sofillher，sheappearsTheimageofthemselvesbyturns，
Theidolofpastyears！
OfherbrightfaceoneglancewilltraceApictureonthebrain，AndofhervoiceinechoingheartsAsoundmustlongremain；
Butmemory，suchasmineofher，Soverymuchendears，WhendeathisnighmylatestsighWillnotbelife’s，buthers。
Ifill’dthiscuptoonemadeupOflovelinessalone，Awoman，ofhergentlesexTheseemingparagon
Herhealth！andwouldonearththerestood，Somemoreofsuchaframe，Thatlifemightbeallpoetry，Andwearinessaname。
ItwasthemisfortuneofMr。Pinckneytohavebeenborntoofarsouth。
HadhebeenaNewEnglander，itisprobablethathewouldhavebeenrankedasthefirstofAmericanlyristsbythatmagnanimouscabalwhichhassolongcontrolledthedestiniesofAmericanLetters，inconductingthethingcalled“TheNorthAmericanReview。”Thepoemjustcitedisespeciallybeautiful；butthepoeticelevationwhichitinduceswemustreferchieflytooursympathyinthepoet’senthusiasm。Wepardonhishyperbolesfortheevidentearnestnesswithwhichtheyareuttered。
Itwasbynomeansmydesign，however，toexpatiateuponthe_merits_ofwhatIshouldreadyou。Thesewillnecessarilyspeakforthemselves。
Boccalini，inhis“AdvertisementsfromParnassus。”tellsusthatZoilusoncepresentedApolloaverycausticcriticismuponaveryadmirablebook：
whereuponthegodaskedhimforthebeautiesofthework。Herepliedthatheonlybusiedhimselfabouttheerrors。Onhearingthis，Apollo，handinghimasackofunwinnowedwheat，badehimpickout_allthechaff_forhisreward。
NowthisfableanswersverywellasahitatthecriticsbutIambynomeanssurethatthegodwasintheright。Iambynomeanscertainthatthetruelimitsofthecriticaldutyarenotgrosslymisunderstood。
Excellence，inapoemespecially，maybeconsideredinthelightofanaxiom，whichneedonlybeproperly_put，_tobecomeself-evident。Itis_not_excellenceifitrequiretobedemonstratedassuch：andthustopointouttooparticularlythemeritsofaworkofArt，istoadmitthattheyare_not_meritsaltogether。
Amongthe“Melodies“ofThomasMooreisonewhosedistinguishedcharacterasapoemproperseemstohavebeensingularlyleftoutofview。
Ialludetohislinesbeginning“Come，restinthisbosom。”TheintenseenergyoftheirexpressionisnotsurpassedbyanythinginByron。Therearetwoofthelinesinwhichasentimentisconveyedthatembodiesthe_allinall_ofthedivinepassionofLoveasentimentwhich，perhaps，hasfounditsechoinmore，andinmorepassionate，humanheartsthananyothersinglesentimenteverembodiedinwords：
Come，restinthisbosom，myownstrickendeerThoughtheherdhavefledfromthee，thyhomeisstillhere；
Herestillisthesmile，thatnocloudcano’ercast，Andaheartandahandallthyowntothelast。
Oh！whatwaslovemadefor，if’tisnotthesameThroughjoyandthroughtorment，throughgloryandshame？
Iknownot，Iasknot，ifguilt’sinthatheart，IbutknowthatIlovethee，whateverthouart。