"And images, that, in the musing mind, / As in a placid lake, lie mirrored and defined, / If ruffling winds along the surface stray, / Scatter'd and broken, pass like rack away"
— Lyte, Henry Francis (1793-1847)
Place of Publication
London and Oxford
Publisher
Rivington
Date
1868
Metaphor
"And images, that, in the musing mind, / As in a placid lake, lie mirrored and defined, / If ruffling winds along the surface stray, / Scatter'd and broken, pass like rack away"
Metaphor in Context
Deal gently with the poet. Think that he
Is made of finer clay than other men,
And ill can bear rough handling; and while we,
Of sturdier natures, laugh'd at laugh again,
And self-complacently shake off
The world's unmerited contempt and scoff--
As easily as from his scaly side
Leviathan shakes off the drippings of the tide;--
Not so the poet. On his keener sense
Light harms smite often with an edge intense.
A stony look, a lip of scorn, may crush
His young aspirings; chill the stir and flush
Of waking inspiration; and control
Down into common-place the darings of his soul.
Lightly his spirit touch!
The lyre is delicate; the chords are fine;
And fine must be the finger, that from such
Wins melody divine.
The strings, that gentler skill to music wakes,
A clash impetuous breaks.
And images, that, in the musing mind,
As in a placid lake, lie mirrored and defined,
If ruffling winds along the surface stray,
Scatter'd and broken, pass like rack away.
Stored thoughts and treasured feelings, that in turn
Were ready to leap forth, and breathe, and burn
In verse, as fancy called them, once dispersed,
Bide, like the Sibyl's leaves, unscanned and unrehearsed.
Is made of finer clay than other men,
And ill can bear rough handling; and while we,
Of sturdier natures, laugh'd at laugh again,
And self-complacently shake off
The world's unmerited contempt and scoff--
As easily as from his scaly side
Leviathan shakes off the drippings of the tide;--
Not so the poet. On his keener sense
Light harms smite often with an edge intense.
A stony look, a lip of scorn, may crush
His young aspirings; chill the stir and flush
Of waking inspiration; and control
Down into common-place the darings of his soul.
Lightly his spirit touch!
The lyre is delicate; the chords are fine;
And fine must be the finger, that from such
Wins melody divine.
The strings, that gentler skill to music wakes,
A clash impetuous breaks.
And images, that, in the musing mind,
As in a placid lake, lie mirrored and defined,
If ruffling winds along the surface stray,
Scatter'd and broken, pass like rack away.
Stored thoughts and treasured feelings, that in turn
Were ready to leap forth, and breathe, and burn
In verse, as fancy called them, once dispersed,
Bide, like the Sibyl's leaves, unscanned and unrehearsed.
Categories
Provenance
Searching "mind" and "mirror" in HDIS (Poetry)
Date of Entry
10/10/2005
