Print (PDF) - On this page / på denna sida - Harvard College, Cambridge, December 15
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are always extempore, are permeated by the true,
inner life, and I feel them as a pleasant, refreshing
dew upon my head. With him lives his youngest son,
the poet, with his wife, as handsome and happy a young
couple as one can possibly imagine. He is full of life
and youthful ardor; she as gentle, as delicate, and
as fair as a lily, and one of the most lovable women
that I have seen in this country, because her beauty
is full of soul and grace, as is everything which she
says or does. This young couple belong to the class
of those in whom one has perfect faith; one could not
for an hour, nay not for a moment, be doubtful about
them. She, like him, has a poetical tendency, and has
also written anonymously some poems, remarkable for
their deep and tender feeling, especially maternal,
but her mind has more philosophical depth than
his. Singularly enough, I did not discern in him
that profound, serious spirit which charmed me in
many of his poems. He seems to me to be predominantly
brilliant, witty, gay, especially in the evening when
he has what he calls his "evening fever," and his
talk is then an incessant play of fireworks. I find
him very amiable and delightful; he seems to have many
friends, mostly young men. Among his poems, the witty
and satirical are the most popular, as, for example,
his Fable for Critics, in which in a good-humored way
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