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Excerpt from The Village; And Other Poems: Religious and Miscellaneous
Poetry is the music of the soul. And little music is there in a soul for which poetry has no charms. As in the outward, so in the inward ear, a great variety of capacity and discrimination is discoverable. But within the extremes of low, vulgar, tasteless incapacity, at the one end, and lofty, refined, and exquisite taste, and power of appreciation, and origination, at the other, there is comprehended an innumerable host of human minds of an a1m0$t infinite diversity of shades of difference in their relish for poetry, and delight under its in¿uence. And who is there of any sentiment or ideality that has not attempted poetry at one time or another? All do not succeed; but to know this, is to know that many wish to do. And what harm in the wish? Let the endeavour be encouraged; the time might be worse spent. If one fail, another may not; and society, as well as the respective individuals, may be somewhat the better for it.
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