Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1918-04-10
B"dnfy'S Youngest Son
The Centenary Of "Endymion'

TUST 100 years ago today John Keats.
81 young man not yet Wcuty-thrcc wrote
at Teigumouth, i'm ncvoushIrc. the preface
to his "Endymion.' II is a passage that will
always echo IN the minds of poetry lovers
ltko a snatch Of sweet, sad music. Looking
back on the poem. which had baZcd in his
mind for the greater part Of a year Keats
confessed that 1t seemed fcycrsh attcmrt
rather than decd accomplished. And he
added, I'm words that viii live as long as any
In tho poem itself There is not Hcrrcr
he'll than the failure in great object"
II is well that humanity should not fpr-
get itSpoets Their pangs and their uas-
SionS have many lessons for u. For those
who's" hearts are tender to the strange and
ms"rutahlc magic Of beauty. Kcats will
always haN, "A thrilling appeal The story
Of his brief and fcver-hauuted days IT, among
tho tmpCrtshablc annals Of the earth
Never did tho ycaruing spirit Of man make
more passionate and enduring outory I'm it's
attempt to voice itself. Drunken Of moon
light, daz2lCd by deep draughts OF glt, ,rd
sea, this man clutched at the stars IIis
romance Was the romance Of AN. BauIrd H.,
tho dissUNiug NCsturc Of reality prcs.,,I
hard by needless thorns lie dreamed or
strange histories
potent 10 send
young mind from its bodily tenement
and poured out for Us "an endless r,,,n,.,i,,
Of immortal drink"
HNIIE human brain can hold but small mn.
l. tons Of that intoxicating anguish mon
call Beauty, It is not we'll to peer foo
closely into the face of life The ,,nllor
accents that men live by too often sprin,, os
the lifeblOod OF the musician. THE som,
outgrows the singer, Humanity is bur n
narrow channel for the great flood of life
and love that flows through ii.
UTNNDYMTON" itself is one Of the inn
II mortal outbursts OF ardent youtb
coming its dreams in fresh and oycrr,,r-
ming gold, glutting its sorrow on the morn
ing rose. Obscure and incohcrent as is tho
narrative distracted with thousand irrcle-
want tuts and tones. Il H. ia sum "A rInv.i,,,,
parable of tho eager soul Of man il, he
endless and bewildercd quest for Beautv and
Truth The hoy or girl who has not fcaetoJ
upon 1t in the springtme OF love aud youth
las lost one OF the, legitimate joys of life
Keats said Of the early growing leafaEes ot
the forest he describes at the outset n,
"Endymion' that they
Run in mazes Of the youngest hue
About old forests
The same Is true OF the poem itself 7,
embroiders the old Woodlands of cIasei,
myth with the happy and Iuxuriant bios
SONS OF green fancy. Down its fragrant
aisles Of dappled sun and shadow we come
upon little cool springs with crystal Inocl.
ing of the trees and sky" In the siIyo,
glow of that immortal moonlight the hazard,
of every day are forgotten. The heart Of
youth Wanders In maiden meditation. tren,
bling It's old and painful ecstasies. - tbinl
OF beauty Is q JOY forever"
IMMORTAL boy and nursling Of the moon
i Even In The death-day OF empires IN,
heart OF humanity turns back to you in pit,
and remembrance When you died The Rrea
spirits whispered 10 each other, Make NOR,
room" They we're wistful TO see YOU conn
50 soon. G. ID. N.