not in their perfection of form,
but in their spontaneity, sincerity, and graphic power. They are not
rivers of song, wide, deep, and swift; they are rather cool, clear
springs among the hills. In the reactions against sophisticated poetry
which set in from lime to time, the popular ballad--the true
folk-song--has often been exalted at the expense of other forms of
verse. It is idle to attempt to arrange the various forms of poetry in
an order of absolute values; it is enough that each has its own quality,
and, therefore, its own value. The drama, the epic, the ballad, the
lyric, each strikes its note in the complete expression of human emotion
and experience. Each belongs to a particular stage of development, and
each has the authority and the enduring charm which attach to every
authentic utterance of the spirit of man under the conditions of life.

In this wide range of human expression the ballad follows the epic
as a kind of aftermath; a second and scattered harvest, springing
without regularity or nurture out of a rich and unexhausted soil. The
epic fastens upon some event of such commanding importance that it
marks a main current of history; some story, historic, or mythologic;
some incident susceptible of extended narrative treatment. It is
always, in its popular form, a matter of growth it is direct, simple,
free from didacticism; representing, as Aristotle says, "a single
action, entire and complete." It subordinates character to action; it
delights in episode and dialogue; it is content to tell the story as
a story, and leave the moralization to hearers or readers. The
popular ballad is so closely related to the popular epic that it may
be said to reproduce its qualities and characteristics within a
narrower compass, and on a smaller scale. It also is a piece of the
memory of the people, or a creation of the imagination of the people;
but the tradition or fact which it preserves is of local, rather
than national importance. It is indifferent to nice distinctions and
delicate gradations or shadings; its power springs from its
directness, vigour, and simplicity. It is often entirely occupied
with the narration or description of a single episode; it has no room
for dialogue, but it often secures the effect of the dialogue by its
unconventional freedom of phrase, and sometimes by the introduction
of brief and compact charge and denial, question and reply. Sometimes
the incidents upon which the ballad