The Last Harvest

tate others: "A cold mechanical preparation for a delivery as decorous,-fine things, pretty things, wise things,-but no arrows, no axes, no nectar, no growling, no transpierci

s of his own defects, both as a man and as a writer. There are many pages of self-criticism in the Journals, but not one of self-praise. In 1842 he writes: "I have not yet adjusted my relation to my fellows on the planet, or to my own work. Always too young, or too old, I do not justify myself; how can I

enough to serve my countrymen with thought and music, if only it wa

guments in stately, continuous verse, constraining the rocks, trees, animals, and the periodic stars to say my thoughts,-for that is the gift of great poets; but I am a bard because I stand

eclare, yet cann

htful countrymen, in these days, I cannot help seeing how limited is their reading. If they read only the books that I do, they would no

to pulmonary disease, against which he made a vigorous fight all his

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e, he says that considering all facts and con