ll forms, favors the culture of the most
manifold relations, and is in itself eternal. The youthful poet cannot
be too cool and considerate. A far-reaching, attentive, and quiet
disposition belongs to the true, melodious ease of address. It becomes
a confused prattling, when a violent storm is raging in the breast; and
the attention is lost in a trembling emptiness of thought. Once more I
repeat it; the true mind is like the light; even as calm and sensitive,
as elastic and penetrating, as powerful and as imperceptibly active, as
that costly element, which with its native regularity scatters itself
upon all objects, and exhibits them in charming variety. The poet is
pure steel, as sensitive as a brittle thread of glass, as hard as the
unyielding flint."

"I have indeed at times felt," said Henry, "that in the moments when my
inner nature was most awake, I was less excited than at other times,
when I could run about freely and attend to all occupations with
pleasure. A spiritual, penetrative essence permeated me, and I could
employ every sense at pleasure, could revolve every thought like an
actual body, and view it from all sides. I stood with silent sympathy
in my father's work-shop, and rejoiced when I could help him to
accomplish anything properly. Propriety has a peculiarly strengthening
charm, and it is true that the consciousness of it gives rise to a more
lasting and distinct enjoyment, than that overflowing feeling of an
incomprehensible, superfluous splendor."

"Believe not," said Klingsohr, "that I disregard the latter; but it
must come of itself and not be bought. The rarity of its appearance is
beneficent; if more frequent, it would weary and weaken. One cannot
quickly enough tear himself from the sweet rapture which it leaves
behind, and return to a regular and laborious occupation. It is as with
pleasant morning dreams, from whose sleepy vortex one must extricate
himself by force, if he would not fall into a lassitude, continually
more oppressive, and so struggle through the whole day in sickly
exhaustion."

"Poetry," continued Klingsohr, "will be cultivated strictly as an art.
As mere enjoyment it ceases to be poetry. The poet must not run about
unoccupied the whole day in chase of figures and feelings. That is the
very reverse of the proper method. A pure, open mind, dexterity in
reflection and contemplation, and ability to put forth all the
faculties in a mutually animating effort, and to keep them s