Evening star., 1925-03-07

| with praise Of Whitman, whose stun,
although properly labeled polite Mt
erature, perhaps, is only raw ma
terial so far as poetry technically is
| concerned"
Ralph Waldo Emerson partially
lost his memory in the last years OF
his life. and at the funeral OF Long :
fellow looked on the face of the dead
| poet. and said: That gentleman was
sweet. beautiful soul. oa. na'e
entirely forgotten his name.
This incident, one of the most pa :
! thetic i'm American literary history, Is
valuable because of It's characteriza
/ tion of Henry WadswOrth Lonsfeuo",
| He was, indeed. sweet, oeautiiui
soul. One has but to look AZ MS pho-
! tograph to know that. Emerson, VINO
had known him all his life, but VINO
| could not recall his name at MS pier
knew that.
Those of today, who are tempera,
mentally offended by the sweet and
the beautiful. having somehow sos
| the idea that sweetness is entireiy
feminine, and beauty likewise sole
prerogative of women, have attracted
| attention by branding Longfeliows
verse as effeminate.
But | feel they have missed the
mark. They have been ashamed 10
read his work In public, when All the
time they ought to have read MIN az
home. Our American disposition ID
such that we are ashamed OF the
| good, the clean, the beautiful In pub
lie.
At home, all decent men realize the
necessity for the good. the clean, the
beautiful. the truly sweet nave
/ friend who prides himself on being
rough Yet he gave himself away one
day when he told me the story OF ths
goldfish, his child's pets. and the
warm water which his wife put In the
bowl He found the fish painting
Pouring cold water in, he revived the
goldfish. And IL the kid had woke uI
and found those fish dead-weli
You see. he was not as rough as
he painted himself. None of us are
That Is where Longfellow reaches the
heart, In the home. concerning which
he wrote his best poems. As Prof
Curtis Hidden Page says.
| "Longfellow's life was that OF a
simple, faithful, true man and gentle
man, kindly and home-loving. And
that is what he has put into his
verse He has been well called the
laureate OF the common human heart.
He is first and most of all the poet OF
the home"
There is not an aspect of home life
| Prof. Page says, that Longfeliow has
| not touched and beautified. If much
| of his poetry is mere commonplace II
is always the making beauttful OF
| the commonplace. Longfellow
is the only American who has sue
cessfully written poems of any con-
/ siderable length. 1t is Longfeliow'f
| distinctive glory that he had the pa
| tience and the sustained artistic
| power to win success in this difficult
| form-a kind of success which is al
most the rarest I'm literature"
American literature-English liter
! ature-is the richer for Longfellow
| One has but to read him with SYM
pathy in the home, where he belongs,
| TO know that the world would be the
poorer without his poems. They have
| woven themselves so into the warp
/ and woof of our American lives that
often we are inclined to laugh al
them, as we are at all good and
sacred things--in public.
But the man who has a little girl
| who would cry IL the goldfish died
| or the man who has no child, but who
| understands, will continue to read in
| private the lines:
| o little feet, that such long yesrs
Must wander on through hopes and fears,
Must ache and bleed beneath your load;
| ], nearer TO the wsyslde inn,
Where toll shall cease and rest begin,
Am weary, thinking OF your road.
| little hands, that, weak or strong
Have still 70 serve rule so long.
Have still 50 long to give ask
!, who SO much with book and pen
| Have toiisd among my fellow men,
| Am weary, thinking of your task.