[The Poetry Of Robert Browning by Stopford A. Brooke]@TWC D-Link book
The Poetry Of Robert Browning

CHAPTER III
8/36

Here is a piece of it: Morning, the rocks and valleys and old woods.
How the sun brightens in the mist, and here, Half in the air, like[5] creatures of the place, Trusting the elements, living on high boughs That sway in the wind--look at the silver spray Flung from the foam-sheet of the cataract Amid the broken rocks! Shall we stay here With the wild hawks?
No, ere the hot noon come Dive we down--safe! See, this is our new retreat Walled in with a sloped mound of matted shrubs, Dark, tangled, old and green, still sloping down To a small pool whose waters lie asleep, Amid the trailing boughs turned water-plants: And tall trees overarch to keep us in, Breaking the sunbeams into emerald shafts, And in the dreamy water one small group Of two or three strange trees are got together Wondering at all around-- This is nerveless work, tentative, talkative, no clear expression of the whole; and as he tries to expand it further in lines we may study with interest, for the very failures of genius are interesting, he becomes even more feeble.

Yet the feebleness is traversed by verses of power, like lightning flashing through a mist upon the sea.

The chief thing to say about this direct, detailed work is that he got out of its manner as fast as he could.

He never tried it again, but passed on to suggest the landscape by a few sharp, high-coloured words; choosing out one or two of its elements and flashing them into prominence.

The rest was left to the imagination of the reader.
He is better when he comes forth from the shadowy woodland-pool into the clear air and open landscape: Up for the glowing day, leave the old woods! See, they part like a ruined arch: the sky! Blue sunny air, where a great cloud floats laden With light, like a dead whale that white birds pick, Floating away in the sun in some north sea.
Air, air, fresh life-blood, thin and searching air, The clear, dear breath of God that loveth us, Where small birds reel and winds take their delight! The last three lines are excellent, but nothing could be worse than the sensational image of the dead whale.


<<Back  Index  Next>>

D-Link book Top

TWC mobile books