k, the carriage of his neck, the flex of his waist
and knees, dress does not hide him,
The strong sweet quality he has strikes through the cotton and
broadcloth,
To see him pass conveys as much as the best poem, perhaps more,
You linger to see his back, and the back of his neck and
shoulder-side."

Crimson rouses a feeling different from that roused by yellow, and
gray wakens a mood different from either. In considering this
symbolic character of colors it is necessary to distinguish between
their value for the emotions and merely literary associations. That
white stands for purity or blue for fidelity is a conventionalized and
attached conception. But the pleasure which a man has in some
colors or his dislike for others depends upon the effect each color
has upon his emotions, and this effect determines for him the
symbolic value of the color. In the same way sounds are symbolic in
that they affect the emotions apart from associated "thoughts." Even
with a person who has no technical knowledge of music, the effect
of the minor key is unmistakably different from the major. The tones
and modulations of the voice, quite apart from the words uttered,
have an emotional value and significance. Everything, line, form,
gesture, movement, color, sound, all the material world, is
expressive. All objective forms have their meaning, and rightly
perceived are, in the sense in which the word is used here, beautiful,
in that they represent or symbolize a spiritual idea.

Thus it is that beauty is not in the object but in man's sense of the
object's symbolic expressiveness. The amateur may be rapt by some
artist's "quality of color." But it is probable that in the act of laying
on his pigment, the artist was not thinking of his "quality" at all, but,
rapt himself by the perception of the supreme harmony at that
moment newly revealed to his sense, he was striving sincerely and
directly to give his feeling its faithfullest expression. His color is
beautiful because his idea was beautiful. The expression is of the
very essence of the thought; it _is_ the thought, but the thought
embodied. "Coleridge," says Carlyle, "remarks very pertinently
somewhere that whenever you find a sentence musically worded, of
true rhythm and melody in the words, there is something deep and
good in the meaning, too. For body and soul, word and idea, go
strangely together here as everywhere." Not to look beyond th