SUMMARY

We have considered the most common and expressive figures, and if one accustoms himself to the recognition of these and an explanation of their meaning as has been indicated here, he will soon recognize others of more complex type. Mere classification is valueless; our purpose is to learn to see and to feel more clearly and more deeply by means of our intelligent grasp upon these figurative expressions.

Thought, then, is mastered by attention to the details we have discussed, and until we habitually notice these things our reading is apt to be slipshod and profitless. It will help us to retain these facts in mind if we put them into a systematic outline.

Mastery of thought, which is at the foundation of an appreciation of literature, depends upon mastery of—

I. Words in their special meaning.

II.

Allusions, or references to

1. Historical events and personages.

2.

Literary masterpieces.

3. Scientific truths.

4.

Biblical events and truths.

5. Mythological creations.

III. Figures, of which the more important and common are those

1. Based on comparisons:

2. Based on natural associations:

a.

synecdoche.

b. metonymy.

3. Of apostrophe.

4. Of personification.

IV. Sentences, the units of thought.

V. Paragraphs, the collections of related thought units.

thetic voice.

CHAPTER XII

READING POETRY

OTHING so brings out the music and the structural beauty of poetry as reading it aloud, and many who have cared nothing for verse in any of its forms learn to love it when they hear it read frequently by a sympaChildren love the nursery rhymes largely because they have heard them and have caught the sound and rhythm more than the meaning. It is the lively music more than the whimsical meaning that has made the rhymes popular. When the time comes that children begin to lose their interest and consider poetry beneath them, their flagging attention often may be aroused and new interest created by simply reading new selections aloud to them and talking with them about the meaning and beauties of the poems.

On page 40 of Volume Two is Longfellow's exquisite poem, The Reaper and the Flowers. We can imagine a little family group reading this some quiet evening when the lamp throws shadows into the corners and the bed-time hour draws near. No one could call the children in on a fine summer day, and, when fresh from their play, the blood is bounding through their veins, expect them to be touched by delicate sentiment,

or to appreciate musical numbers. Literature has something for every hour, every mood, every circumstance. It may be that there is one little vacant chair in this family circle, or that from some neighbor's family a child has gone. Fear clutches at the youthful hearts and Grief shudders behind each chair. Even the warm bed in the dark room is a dread, for we have so surrounded death with mystery and terror that even the young are aghast when it is mentioned. But our best-loved poet has a cheering message for every one, and into this little group the parent brings it. In soft and sympathetic voice he reads aloud, giving the slow and gentle music of the lines time to steal into the youthful hearts.

As he reads, he pauses now and then to speak to his little audience, watching ever not to be sharp in his questionings or anything but kindly in his comments. Something like the following might be the way he brings out the meaning:

"There is a Reaper, whose name is Death,
And, with his sickle keen,

He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
And the flowers that grow between.'

"A Reaper-a man walking in the grain, cutting it as he goes. Not with a machine such as we see on the farm nowadays, but with a short curved blade such as the artist has shown us in the picture. Do you see it? It is a keen blade the sickle has, and with every stroke ripened grain and all the little flowers that have grown up among it fall to the ground. That

is the picture. But the poet means more. He thinks that the Reaper is Death, that the bearded grain is the men and women who have lived to a ripe old age and who are ready to die, ready for the rewards of a long and well-spent life. But alas, the flowers fall with the ripened grain: sometimes little children must die, although dearly would we like to keep them with us.

"Then the Reaper speaks: 'Shall I have nothing fair and beautiful, must I have nothing but dry and bearded grain? I love these beautiful flowers: their fragrance is dear to me. Yet I will give them back again; some time you may see them again.'

"So Death looked at the little children with tears filling his kindly eyes. As they faded and drooped he kissed them gently and took them softly and sorrowfully into his arms. He was gathering these lovely innocents to take them to his Lord, where in Paradise they might be happy evermore, without any of the privations and sufferings that come to every one who grows up.

"As he wept, not for the little children, but for all who stay behind, he continued to speak smilingly through his tears to the sorrowing ones on earth:

"Christ needs these dear ones, these flowerets gay: to him they are tokens dear of the earth where once he played and sang on the hills of Judea. Can you not trust them to him who said, "Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the Kingdom of God?" Have no fear; I am but moving them