The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-09-20
SUMMER IN TOWN.

SUMMER In TOWN.
Cynics, who have noted that Summer in
town" has, of late, become favorite theme
with verse writer's, have been heard to say that
the inspiration which produces the illusions is
born of a regular financial stringency that
keeps the poets away from the country and
that, really, there is no poetry in summer in
town. 1t is assumed by these critics that
only those who are privileged to spend the
months of roses and of bloom far from the
madding crowd are the ones to derive benefit
therefrom; that not only do the veritable
tourists receive the material good which free
dom, pure air and pure fare-which nature,
in short. can give-but that the moral
and spiritual gain must be theirs alone.
This assumption leaves the inference to be
drawn that the benefit is only temporary;
that, saving the increased strength Of muscle
and brightness of eye, the delights of rural
life vanish when fields and forests are left be-
hind and are only to be renewed by visiting
the same scenes another year. This takes no
account of that faculty known as the magma
ton, no account of the memory, nor
of the fact that what is once made a
part of the soul, let it come through what
sense it may, is not lost through change of
bodily location. If when standing on the
mountain-top or apart in the wilderness the
spirit comes nearer to the Maker of all, if the
immensely Of space be even vaguely realized
only when one is alone with the stars, or the
sight of multitudinous seas brings faint COM
prehension of the divine, then are we to lose
the inspiration, the sense of freedom, of i'm
mortality when stone walls encompass us
once more9
Of whatever spiritual benefit nature may
be-poets and philosophers alike bow down to
her as life iver and healer of the mind
diseased-is it only to be felt while in the
actual presence of the inanimate works of the
Creator9 If we carry Drowned cheeks and
renewed physical vigor away from field and
shore may we not also bring the less tangible
acquisitions Of peace and faith, of that in
creased love for life's duties and for humanity
which comes sometimes through seclusion
from them?
Narrow is the vision and dull the sense
which, though shut in by brick and mortar
scannot, when the summer winds blow dust
laden and warm over roofs and chimneys, see
the billowy seas of grass and grain, nor catch
the scent of dew-laden clover that blooms in
far off fields When the sun beats upon the
pavement does it need the aid of car and
steam to bring visions of shadowy forests, of
hills enveloped in shimmering purple, of har-
vests gathering ripeness from the heat?
Having once seen the moonlight on meadow
and river, having heard the ripple of the
mountain stream over messy rocks, or the
dash of the waves on the beach, is the
pleasure these sights and sounds evoke not to
be renewed in the heart of their lover until he
shall return to themg Are there then no
sermons in stones" save they be where nature
placed them, nor "books in running brooks"
except the poet be there continually to seeg
Of certainty this is not the case. The
one who sees best the beauty of rock, and tree,
and sunset skies is not always he whose eyes
rest upon the scenes but he who has made them
his own in times past and has kept their image in
his heart. He who writes of bird and bios
som until the trill of one and the fragrance
Of the other are part of his song, may not
be he who wanders in their hiding places but
one who listens to an echo of by-gone
melody, or dreams of flowers long faded.
There is poetry in city study If the poetical
alchemist be there to transfgure the dull
prospect with the splendor of his memories
and his fancies The poetry of summer,
though gathered from hill and vale, may be
distilled in its richness through the mind of
the singer, though he be shut in prison CELL
The one who cries
"&1y body is in Segovia
But my soul is in Madrid
does not chant the praises of Segovia, but
sings of the other spot wherein his life lies
hid" 1t is thus with the summer poet; the
essence of the season is carried in his heart,
however wintry or prosaic the surroundings
may be.