Let the orator as well as the poet study its capabilities; it
has more power over the sympathies of the masses than the most labored
thought.
Although through the quantitive arrangement and determinate accentuation
of syllabic sound, rhythm may be exquisitely manifested through
language, yet in music alone does it attain its full power and wonderful
complexity. For the _tones_ are not _thoughts_, but _feelings_, and
yield themselves implicitly to the loving hand which would reunite them
and form them into higher unities. These passionate tones, always
seeking for and surging into each other, are plastic pearls on the
string of rhythm, whose proportions may be indefinitely varied at the
will of the fond hand which would wreathe them into strands of
symmetrical beauty; while _words_, the vehicles of antagonistic thought,
frequently refuse to conform to the requisitions of feeling, are often
obstinate and wilful, will not be remodelled, and hard, in their
self-sufficiency, refuse to bear any stamp save that of their known and
fixed value. Like irregular beads of uncut coral, they protrude their
individualities in jagged spikes and unsightly thorns, breaking often
the unity of the whole, and painfully wounding the sense of order.
The true poet overcomes these difficulties. When, in the hands of a
master, they are forced to bend under the onward and impetuous sweep of
the passionate rhythm, compelled to sing the tune of the overpowering
emotions--the chords of the spirit quiver in response.
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