With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion. We loved with a love that was more than love. There are few cases in which mere popularity should be considered a proper test of merit; but the case of song-writing is, I think, one of the few. That man is not truly brave who is afraid either to seem or to be, when it suits him, a coward. It is the nature of truth in general, as of some ores in particular, to be richest when most superficial. I wish I could write as mysterious as a cat. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears. All that you see or seem, is but a dream within a dream. It may well be doubted whether human ingenuity can construct an enigma... which human ingenuity may not, by proper application, resolve. |