The beauty of the bugle1's voice above the roar of drums—
The beauty of the bugle's voice above the roar and din2
Of battle drums that pulse the time the victor marches in?
—James Whitcomb Riley.
"Oh, the poet of the future!" Can anybody guess
Whether he'll sound his bugle, or she'll wear them on her dress;
An' will they kinder get their themes from nature, second hand,
An' dish 'em up in language that plain folks can't understand?
There's a sight of this 'ere po'try stuff, each year, that goes to waste,
Jest a-waitin' fer a poet who has the time and taste
To tackle it just as it is, an' weave it into rhyme,
With warp3 and woof of hope and love, in life's swift loom4 of time.
An' mebbe the future poet, if he understands the thing,
Won't start the summer katydids to singin' in the spring,
Jest like the croakin' frog; but let the critter wait at most,
To announce to timid farmers that "it's jest six weeks till frost."
The katydid and goldenrod are partners in this way:
They sing and bloom where'er there's room, along life's sunny way;
So I warn you, future poet, jest let 'em bloom an' lilt
Together—don't divorce 'em. That's jest the way they're built.
In order to be perfect, the future poet should
Know every sound of nature, of river, lake an' wood,
Should know each whispered note and every answerin' call—
He should never set cock-pheasants to drummin' in the fall.
"Under the golden maples5!" Not havin' voice to sing
They flap their love out on a log quite early in the spring;
For burnin' love will allus find expression in some way—
That's the style that they've adopted—don't change their natures, pray.
I cannot guess just what the future poet's themes may be;
Reckon they'll be pretty lofty, fer, as anyone can see,
The world of poetry's lookin' up an' poets climbin' higher;
With divine afflatus6 boostin' them, of course they must aspire7.
The poets of the good old times were cruder with the pen;
Their idees weren't the same as ours—these good old-fashioned men—
Bet old Homer never writ8, even in his palmiest day,
Such a soul-upliftin' poem as "Hosses Chawin' Hay."
"Hosses" don't know any better out in the Hawkeye State—
Down to Boston now, I reckon, they jest simply masticate9.
The poet of the future'll blow a bugle, like as not—
Most all us modern poets had to blow fer what we've got.
To keep the pot a-b'ilin' we all have to raise a din
To make the public look our way—an' pass the shekels in.
The scarcity10 of bugles11 seems now the greatest lack
Though some of us keep blowin' 'thout a bugle to our back.
The poet of the future! When once he takes his theme
His pen will slip as smoothly12 as a canoe glides13 down stream.
He'll sing from overflowin' heart—his music will be free—
Would you take up a subscription14 fer a robin15 in a tree?
He'll never try to drive the Muse16, if he doesn't want to go,
But will promptly17 take the harness off—er drive keerfull an' slow—
When po'try's forced, like winter pinks, the people's apt to know it
An' labor18 with it jest about as hard as did the poet.
点击收听单词发音
1 bugle | |
n.军号,号角,喇叭;v.吹号,吹号召集 | |
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2 din | |
n.喧闹声,嘈杂声 | |
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3 warp | |
vt.弄歪,使翘曲,使不正常,歪曲,使有偏见 | |
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4 loom | |
n.织布机,织机;v.隐现,(危险、忧虑等)迫近 | |
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5 maples | |
槭树,枫树( maple的名词复数 ); 槭木 | |
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6 afflatus | |
n.灵感,神感 | |
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7 aspire | |
vi.(to,after)渴望,追求,有志于 | |
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8 writ | |
n.命令状,书面命令 | |
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9 masticate | |
v.咀嚼 | |
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10 scarcity | |
n.缺乏,不足,萧条 | |
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11 bugles | |
妙脆角,一种类似薯片但做成尖角或喇叭状的零食; 号角( bugle的名词复数 ); 喇叭; 匍匐筋骨草; (装饰女服用的)柱状玻璃(或塑料)小珠 | |
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12 smoothly | |
adv.平滑地,顺利地,流利地,流畅地 | |
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13 glides | |
n.滑行( glide的名词复数 );滑音;音渡;过渡音v.滑动( glide的第三人称单数 );掠过;(鸟或飞机 ) 滑翔 | |
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14 subscription | |
n.预订,预订费,亲笔签名,调配法,下标(处方) | |
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15 robin | |
n.知更鸟,红襟鸟 | |
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16 muse | |
n.缪斯(希腊神话中的女神),创作灵感 | |
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17 promptly | |
adv.及时地,敏捷地 | |
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18 labor | |
n.劳动,努力,工作,劳工;分娩;vi.劳动,努力,苦干;vt.详细分析;麻烦 | |
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