Page 92 - Four Famous American Writers: Washington Irving, Edgar Allan Poe, James Russell Lowell, Bayard Taylor

snow.

Lowell's greatest poem, "The Vision of Sir Launfal," was written in the
same simple, beautiful spirit of "The First Snow-Fall," and that is why we

all like to read it over and over again. "Sir Launfal" was a favorite with
Mrs. Lowell from the beginning. She probably knew better that it was a
great poem than the poet himself did.

The "Prelude" to the first part is beautiful because it contains so much that

cannot but touch the heart of every one, however he may dislike poetry. A
great poem like this cannot be read hastily, nor must we stop with reading it
once. Great poetry must be read so many times that it is committed entirely

to memory before we begin to reach the end of the beauties in it. Each time
we reread we see new beauties, we feel new thrills.

Over his keys the musing organist, Beginning doubtfully and far away,
First lets his fingers wander as they list, And builds a bridge from

Dreamland for his lay; Then, as the touch of his loved instrument Gives
hope and fervor, nearer draws his theme, First guessed by faint auroral

flashes sent Along the wavering vista of his dream.

The first time you read this passage it may mean little to you; but as you

read again and again you gradually picture in your mind a grand cathedral,
just filling with people for the morning worship. The organist begins with a

few light notes, fanciful, merely suggestive; then louder and louder swells
the strain; the music begins to bring up before your mind pictures of
waterfalls, cities, men and women with passionate hearts; at last, in the

grand flood of the music, you forget yourself, the world around you, the
church, the thronging congregation, everything.

After this pretty and suggestive prelude, describing the musician, we read
such passages as this, which suggest the theme as by a "faint auroral flash":

And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days;

Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear
lays.