I adopted the trochees of the first movement because they COMPEL
a measured, sober, and meditative movement of the mind;
and because, too, they are not the genius of our language.
a measured, sober, and meditative movement of the mind;
and because, too, they are not the genius of our language.
Sidney Lanier
.
.
The enclosed will show you partly what I have been doing.
.
.
.
The Centennial Commission has invited me to write a poem
which shall serve as the text for a Cantata (the music to be by Dudley Buck,
of New York), to be sung at the opening of the Exhibition,
under Thomas' direction. . . . I've written the enclosed.
Necessarily I had to think out the musical conceptions as well as the poem,
and I have briefly indicated these along the margin of each movement.
I have tried to make the whole as simple and as candid
as a melody of Beethoven's: at the same time expressing
the largest ideas possible, and expressing them in such a way
as could not be offensive to any modern soul. I particularly hope
you'll like the Angel's song, where I have endeavored to convey,
in one line each, the philosophies of Art, of Science, of Power,
of Government, of Faith, and of Social Life. Of course I shall not expect
that this will instantly appeal to tastes peppered and salted
by [certain of our contemporary writers]; but one cannot forget Beethoven,
and somehow all my inspiration came in these large and artless forms,
in simple Saxon words, in unpretentious and purely intellectual conceptions,
while nevertheless I felt, all through, the necessity of making
a genuine song -- and not a rhymed set of good adages -- out of it.
I adopted the trochees of the first movement because they COMPEL
a measured, sober, and meditative movement of the mind;
and because, too, they are not the genius of our language.
When the troubles cease, and the land emerges as a distinct unity,
then I fall into our native iambics. . . . "
"Baltimore, January 25, 1876.
"My Dear Friend: -- Your praise, and your wife's, give me a world of comfort.
I really do not believe anything was ever written under an equal number
of limitations; and when I first came to know all the conditions of the poem
I was for a moment inclined to think that no genuine work
could be produced under them.
"As for the friend who was the cause of the compliment, it was, directly,
Mr. Taylor. . . . INDIRECTLY, YOU are largely concerned in it. . .
The Centennial Commission has invited me to write a poem
which shall serve as the text for a Cantata (the music to be by Dudley Buck,
of New York), to be sung at the opening of the Exhibition,
under Thomas' direction. . . . I've written the enclosed.
Necessarily I had to think out the musical conceptions as well as the poem,
and I have briefly indicated these along the margin of each movement.
I have tried to make the whole as simple and as candid
as a melody of Beethoven's: at the same time expressing
the largest ideas possible, and expressing them in such a way
as could not be offensive to any modern soul. I particularly hope
you'll like the Angel's song, where I have endeavored to convey,
in one line each, the philosophies of Art, of Science, of Power,
of Government, of Faith, and of Social Life. Of course I shall not expect
that this will instantly appeal to tastes peppered and salted
by [certain of our contemporary writers]; but one cannot forget Beethoven,
and somehow all my inspiration came in these large and artless forms,
in simple Saxon words, in unpretentious and purely intellectual conceptions,
while nevertheless I felt, all through, the necessity of making
a genuine song -- and not a rhymed set of good adages -- out of it.
I adopted the trochees of the first movement because they COMPEL
a measured, sober, and meditative movement of the mind;
and because, too, they are not the genius of our language.
When the troubles cease, and the land emerges as a distinct unity,
then I fall into our native iambics. . . . "
"Baltimore, January 25, 1876.
"My Dear Friend: -- Your praise, and your wife's, give me a world of comfort.
I really do not believe anything was ever written under an equal number
of limitations; and when I first came to know all the conditions of the poem
I was for a moment inclined to think that no genuine work
could be produced under them.
"As for the friend who was the cause of the compliment, it was, directly,
Mr. Taylor. . . . INDIRECTLY, YOU are largely concerned in it. . .
