He found that "no one had been
so universally employed as the refrain." The burden of the poem should
be given by the refrain, and it should be a monotone, and should have
brevity. Then his task was to select a single word that would be in
keeping with the melancholy at which he was aiming, and this he found
in the word _nevermore_. He next invented a pretext for the frequent
but varying use of _nevermore_. This word could not be spoken in the
right tone by a human being; it must come from an unreasoning
creature, hence the introduction of the raven, an ill-omened bird, in
harmony with the main tone of the poem. He then considered what was
the most melancholy subject of mankind, and found it was death, and
that that melancholy theme was most poetical when allied to beauty.
Hence the death of a beautiful woman was unquestionably the most
poetic topic in the world. It was equally beyond doubt that the lips
best suited for such topic were those of a bereaved lover. Thus he
worked himself up, or rather back, to the climax of the poem, for he
wrote the last stanza, in which the climax occurs, first. His own
analysis of the poem is like a chemist's analysis of some new compound
he has produced; it is full of technical terms and subtle
distinctions. Probably no other famous poem was turned out in just
that studied and deliberate architectural way--no pretense of
inspiration, or of "eyes in fine frenzy rolling": just skilled
craftsmanship--only this and nothing more.
Arnold's dictum that poetry is a criticism of life is, in a large and
flexible sense, true. The poet does not criticize life as the
conscious critic does, but as we unconsciously do in our most exalted
moments. Arnold, I believe, did not appreciate Whitman, but one
function of the poet upon which Whitman lays emphasis, is criticism of
his country and times.
"What is this you bring, my America?
Is it uniform with my country?
Is it not something that has been better done or told before?
Have you not imported this or the spirit of it in some ship?
Is it not a mere tale? a rhyme? a pettiness?--is the good old cause
in it?
Has it not dangled long at the heels of the poets, politicians,
literates of enemies, lands?
Does it not assume that what is notoriously gone is still here?
Does it answer universal needs? will it improve manners?
Can your performance face the open fields and the seaside?
Will
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