The representative. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1893-1901, 1896-12-02
ARE THE POETS ALL DEAD.

Under the above title the Mime
apolis Tribune, Ga very we'll edited pa
per, by the way,) presents the follow
ing views:
There were giants in those days" So
we say contrasting the poetry Of a gen.
Grafton ago with the productions that now
pass as poetry in the magazines and news
papers. That day. when Emerson, Long
fellow Lowell, Whittier and Holmes were
living-the day that gave birth to the
Boston Hymn. the Coronation Ode" the
psalm Of Life" the "Chembered Nauti-
lus' and other great odes and lyrics. was
indeed the golden age Of American poetry.
Turning to some old bound volumes OF
the Atlantic Monthly. we read there poems
which present contributor to the most
literary Of our magazines can begin to
equal which soar fax above anything
to be found In our current literature. For
instance, take that poem Of Whittiers
written in commemoration Of the compile
ton Of the Atlantic cable:
Thou lonely bay Of Trinity,
IS Ye boeky shores untrod,
Lean GREATNESS to the white-lipped sea-
And hear the voice Of God.
From world to world his couriers fly.
Thought winged and shod with fire;
The angel Of the stormy sky
Rides down the sunken wire.
What saith the herald Of the Lord?
The worlds long strife is done;
Close welded by that mystic chord,
Her continents are one.
And in thought. as in blood.
Shall all her people be;
The hands of human brotherhood
Have clasped beneath the sea.
Through Orient seas. Ger Africs sands
And Asian mountains borne.
The vigor Of the Northern brain
Shall nerve the world outworn.
From cline to cline. from shore to shore.
Shall thrill the magic thread;
The new Prometheus steals once more
The fire that makes the dead
Weave On, swift shuttle of the Lord.
The bridal robe Of earth's accord.
The funeral shroud of war
The Poles unite the zones agree.
The tongues Of striving cease;
AS on the Sea of Gailee
The Christ is whispering. Peace"
Then there is Whittiers "Laus Deo," In
honor of that constitutional amendment
which abolished slavery, beginning:
at Is done!
Clang Of bells and roar of gun
Sound the tidings up and down,
How the belfries rack and reel!
How the great guns peal on peal.
Fling the JOY from town to town.!
This exultant strain goes strong,
clear and sweet until it eliminates in this
final stanza:
Ring and swing
Bells of joy! on mornings wing.
Send the song of praise abroad!
With a sound Of broken chains
Tell the nations that He rei@nS
Who alone Is Lord and God!'
The question in day is not Where
shall the poet find a theme?" but Where
shall the theme find a poet?" Never were
there nobler subjects awaiting the poets
Tyre than now; but if the poets are not
all dead, the true singers are strangely
zilent.
LII becomes an open question wheth-
er the domination of the MOney.pOw-
er, and the sordid spirit which greed
generates, is not deadly to the divine
art of poetry. A certain generous en-
thusiasm of the mind is necessary for
the higher flights of genius. Where
men are robbed Of that enthusiasm;
where they become mere cringers be-
fore power; mere watchers of the
great and rich for such scraps as may
be thrown them, the whole tone and
purpose Of the youthful mind are de-
graded, and the new generation grows
up cowardly and selfish.
The age that worships trash-piles
cannot produce great poets. Only
material success is worshipped.