le human race. The sharpness of grief has wakened the soul to the
contemplation of sublime ideas--truth, justice, nobility, honor, and the
sense of beauty as shown in all created things. The man once loved a
person--now his heart goes out to the universe. The dread of death is
gone, and he calmly contemplates his own end and waits the summons without
either impatience or fear. He realizes that death itself is a
manifestation of life--that it is as natural and just as necessary.

"Sunset and evening star
And one clear call for me,
And may there be no moaning of the bar
When I put out to sea."

The desire for sympathy and the wish for friendship are in his heart, but
the fever of unrest and the spirit of revolt are gone. His heart, his
hope, his faith, his life, are freely laid on the altar of Eternal Love.

ROBERT BURNS

TO JEANNIE

Come, let me take thee to my breast,
And pledge we ne'er shall sunder;
And I shall spurn, as vilest dust,
The warld's wealth and grandeur.

And do I hear my Jeannie own
That equal transports move her?
I ask for dearest life, alone,
That I may live to love her.

Thus in my arms, wi' a' thy charms,
I clasp my countless treasure;
I'll seek nae mair o' heaven to share
Than sic a moment's pleasure.

And by thy een, sae bonnie blue,
I swear I'm thine for ever:
And on thy lips I seal my vow,
And break it shall I never.
--_Robert Burns_

[Illustration: ROBERT BURNS]

The business of Robert Burns was love-making.

All love is good, but some kinds of love are better than others. Through
Burns' penchant for falling in love we have his songs. A Burns
bibliography is simply a record of his love-affairs, and the spasms of
repentance that followed his lapses are made manifest in religious verse.

Poetry is the very earliest form of literature, and is the natural
expression of a person in love; and I suppose we might as well admit the
fact at once that without love there would be no poetry.

Poetry is the bill and coo of sex. All poets are lovers, and all lovers,
either actual or potential, are poets. Potential poets are the people who
read poetry; and so without lovers the poet would never have a market for
his wares.

If you have ceased to be moved by religious emotion; if your spirit is no
longer exalted by music, and you do not