[The Guardian Angel by Oliver Wendell Holmes ,Sr.]@TWC D-Link bookThe Guardian Angel CHAPTER XVIII 13/23
I don't see why that should make me a poet. My mother was always fond of Dr.Watts's hymns; but so are other young men's mothers, and yet they don't show poetical genius.
But wherever I got it, it comes as easy to me to write in verse as to write in prose, almost.
Don't you ever feel a longing to send your thoughts forth in verse, Cyprian ?" "I wish I had a greater facility of expression very often," Cyprian answered; "but when I have my best thoughts I do not find that I have words that seem fitting to clothe them.
I have imagined a great many poems, Gifted, but I never wrote a rhyming verse, or verse of any kind. Did you ever hear Olive play 'Songs without Words'? If you have ever heard her, you will know what I mean by unrhymed and unversed poetry." "I am sure I don't know what you mean, Cyprian, by poetry without rhyme or verse, any more than I should if you talked about pictures that were painted on nothing, or statues that were made out of nothing.
How can you tell that anything is poetry, I should like to know, if there is neither a regular line with just so many syllables, nor a rhyme? Of course you can't.
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