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Berkshire (Mass.) (Massachusetts, United States) (search for this): chapter 29
d to do more good, to touch the soul to finer issues; pieces that will live to be worn near the hearts of men when the thrilling war-notes of Campbell and Korner will be forgotten. You and I admire the poetry of Gray. There are few things in any language which give me more pleasure than the Elegy in a Country Churchyard, the Progress of Poesy, and the Bard. On these his reputation rears itself, and will stand for ever. But I had rather be the author of A Psalm of Life, The Light of Stars, The Reaper and the Flowers, and Excelsior, than those rich pieces of Gray. I think Longfellow without rival near his throne in America. I might go further: I doubt if there is any poet now alive, and not older than he, who has written so much and so well. . . . Longfellow is to be happy for a fortnight in the shades of Cambridge; then to visit his wife's friends in Berkshire; then his own in Portland. I am all alone,—alone. My friends fall away from me. Ever and ever yours, Charles Sumne
Korner (search for this): chapter 29
ellow's chief virtue to have apprehended it. His poetry does not rally to battle; but it affords succor and strength to bear the ills of life. There are six or seven pieces of his far superior, as it seems to me, to any thing I know of Uhland or Korner calculated to do more good, to touch the soul to finer issues; pieces that will live to be worn near the hearts of men when the thrilling war-notes of Campbell and Korner will be forgotten. You and I admire the poetry of Gray. There are few thiKorner will be forgotten. You and I admire the poetry of Gray. There are few things in any language which give me more pleasure than the Elegy in a Country Churchyard, the Progress of Poesy, and the Bard. On these his reputation rears itself, and will stand for ever. But I had rather be the author of A Psalm of Life, The Light of Stars, The Reaper and the Flowers, and Excelsior, than those rich pieces of Gray. I think Longfellow without rival near his throne in America. I might go further: I doubt if there is any poet now alive, and not older than he, who has written so
Uhland (search for this): chapter 29
July 13. . . . I do not think it essential that the first poets of an age should write war odes. Our period has a higher calling, and it is Longfellow's chief virtue to have apprehended it. His poetry does not rally to battle; but it affords succor and strength to bear the ills of life. There are six or seven pieces of his far superior, as it seems to me, to any thing I know of Uhland or Korner calculated to do more good, to touch the soul to finer issues; pieces that will live to be worn near the hearts of men when the thrilling war-notes of Campbell and Korner will be forgotten. You and I admire the poetry of Gray. There are few things in any language which give me more pleasure than the Elegy in a Country Churchyard, the Progress of Poesy, and the Bard. On these his reputation rears itself, and will stand for ever. But I had rather be the author of A Psalm of Life, The Light of Stars, The Reaper and the Flowers, and Excelsior, than those rich pieces of Gray. I think Longf
John Campbell (search for this): chapter 29
rst poets of an age should write war odes. Our period has a higher calling, and it is Longfellow's chief virtue to have apprehended it. His poetry does not rally to battle; but it affords succor and strength to bear the ills of life. There are six or seven pieces of his far superior, as it seems to me, to any thing I know of Uhland or Korner calculated to do more good, to touch the soul to finer issues; pieces that will live to be worn near the hearts of men when the thrilling war-notes of Campbell and Korner will be forgotten. You and I admire the poetry of Gray. There are few things in any language which give me more pleasure than the Elegy in a Country Churchyard, the Progress of Poesy, and the Bard. On these his reputation rears itself, and will stand for ever. But I had rather be the author of A Psalm of Life, The Light of Stars, The Reaper and the Flowers, and Excelsior, than those rich pieces of Gray. I think Longfellow without rival near his throne in America. I might go
Charles Sumner (search for this): chapter 29
d to do more good, to touch the soul to finer issues; pieces that will live to be worn near the hearts of men when the thrilling war-notes of Campbell and Korner will be forgotten. You and I admire the poetry of Gray. There are few things in any language which give me more pleasure than the Elegy in a Country Churchyard, the Progress of Poesy, and the Bard. On these his reputation rears itself, and will stand for ever. But I had rather be the author of A Psalm of Life, The Light of Stars, The Reaper and the Flowers, and Excelsior, than those rich pieces of Gray. I think Longfellow without rival near his throne in America. I might go further: I doubt if there is any poet now alive, and not older than he, who has written so much and so well. . . . Longfellow is to be happy for a fortnight in the shades of Cambridge; then to visit his wife's friends in Berkshire; then his own in Portland. I am all alone,—alone. My friends fall away from me. Ever and ever yours, Charles Sumner
Henry W. Longfellow (search for this): chapter 29
July 13. . . . I do not think it essential that the first poets of an age should write war odes. Our period has a higher calling, and it is Longfellow's chief virtue to have apprehended it. His poetry does not rally to battle; but it affords succor and strength to bear the ills of life. There are six or seven pieces of his fver. But I had rather be the author of A Psalm of Life, The Light of Stars, The Reaper and the Flowers, and Excelsior, than those rich pieces of Gray. I think Longfellow without rival near his throne in America. I might go further: I doubt if there is any poet now alive, and not older than he, who has written so much and so welthere is any poet now alive, and not older than he, who has written so much and so well. . . . Longfellow is to be happy for a fortnight in the shades of Cambridge; then to visit his wife's friends in Berkshire; then his own in Portland. I am all alone,—alone. My friends fall away from me. Ever and ever yours, Charles Sumne
Gray (search for this): chapter 29
know of Uhland or Korner calculated to do more good, to touch the soul to finer issues; pieces that will live to be worn near the hearts of men when the thrilling war-notes of Campbell and Korner will be forgotten. You and I admire the poetry of Gray. There are few things in any language which give me more pleasure than the Elegy in a Country Churchyard, the Progress of Poesy, and the Bard. On these his reputation rears itself, and will stand for ever. But I had rather be the author of A Psalm of Life, The Light of Stars, The Reaper and the Flowers, and Excelsior, than those rich pieces of Gray. I think Longfellow without rival near his throne in America. I might go further: I doubt if there is any poet now alive, and not older than he, who has written so much and so well. . . . Longfellow is to be happy for a fortnight in the shades of Cambridge; then to visit his wife's friends in Berkshire; then his own in Portland. I am all alone,—alone. My friends fall away from me. Eve
July 13th (search for this): chapter 29
July 13. . . . I do not think it essential that the first poets of an age should write war odes. Our period has a higher calling, and it is Longfellow's chief virtue to have apprehended it. His poetry does not rally to battle; but it affords succor and strength to bear the ills of life. There are six or seven pieces of his far superior, as it seems to me, to any thing I know of Uhland or Korner calculated to do more good, to touch the soul to finer issues; pieces that will live to be worn near the hearts of men when the thrilling war-notes of Campbell and Korner will be forgotten. You and I admire the poetry of Gray. There are few things in any language which give me more pleasure than the Elegy in a Country Churchyard, the Progress of Poesy, and the Bard. On these his reputation rears itself, and will stand for ever. But I had rather be the author of A Psalm of Life, The Light of Stars, The Reaper and the Flowers, and Excelsior, than those rich pieces of Gray. I think Long