ng the conventional paths in which
imitators move, studied and delineated Nature as it exists in New
England, modified by the elements of a comparatively low latitude, a
brilliant sky, uncertain springs, short and hot summers, richly colored
autumns, and winters of pure and crystal cold. The merit and the
popularity of Bryant's descriptive poetry prove how intimate is the
relation between imagination and truth, and how the poet who is faithful
to the highest requisitions of his art must obey laws as rigid as those
of science itself. Here, at the risk of making our readers read again
what they may have read before, we transcribe a passage from a
memorandum of Mr. Morritt's, containing an account of Scott's
proceedings while studying the localities of "Rokeby":--

"I observed him noting down even the peculiar little wild flowers and
herbs that accidentally grew round and on the side of a bold crag near
his intended Cave of Grey Denzil, and could not help saying, that, as he
was not to be upon oath in his work, daisies, violets, and primroses
would be as poetical as any of the humble plants he was examining. I
laughed, in short, at his scrupulousness; but I understood him when he
replied, 'that in Nature no two scenes were exactly alike, and that
whoever copied truly what was before his eyes would possess the same
variety in his descriptions, and exhibit apparently an imagination as
boundless as the range of Nature in the scenes he recorded; whereas,
whoever trusted to his imagination would soon find his own mind
circumscribed and contracted to a few images, and the repetition of
these would sooner or later produce that very monotony and barrenness
which had always haunted descriptive poetry in the hands of any but the
patient worshippers of truth.'"

This is excellent good sense, and the descriptive poetry of Bryant shows
how carefully he has observed the rules which Scott has laid down. He
never has a conventional image, and never resorts to the second-hand
frippery of a poetical commonplace-book to tag his verses with. Every
season of our American year has been delineated by him, and the drawing
and coloring of his pictures are always correct. Our American springs,
for instance, are not at all the ideal or poetical springs, and Bryant
does not pretend that they are; and yet he can find a poetical side to
them, as witness his poem entitled "March":--

"The stormy March is come at last,
With wind, and cloud, and