To Theology, Mother of the Sciences, Poetry should be her wisest, eldest, and yet ever loveliest yougest daughter, the first of her handmaidens, enjoying the first-born's share of her love. To return to Corinna's appeal with a wider application-The Poet as Citizen & Other Papers, Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, Macmillian, 1935. p. 23,24
O let thy children lean aslant
Against the tender Mother's knee,
And into her face, and want
To know what magic there can be
In words that urge some eyes to dance,
While others in a holy trance
Look up to heaven; be such praise!
Why linger? I must haste, or lose the Delphic bays.
Rejecting Poetry, how coarse and cheap is the kind of appeal nowadays offered in congregational worship?
But surely, surely, Oh for anything more poetical!Oh, for the pearly gates of Heaven,
Oh, for the golden floor!
That sort of stuff may satisfy, but it does not cure; may ease like an opiate, but cannot heal.
When half-gods go
The Gods arrive.
I hope, Gentlemen, to examine with you, next time, this opposition of the poet as an individual and as a citizen; reconciling them if we can; anyhow convinced it is worth trying in these perilous days.
Beautiful, thoughtful, and gives an answer to several things: one being why the old, poetic hymns resonate so deeply with the spirit. It is nice to have words to express that feeling that returns again and again since childhood.