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of a fragment of the Mind that created all
worlds。
There is a consonance of all things; a blending of all that we know
about the material world and the spiritual。 It consists for me of all
the impressions; vibrations; heat; cold; taste; smell; and the
sensations which these convey to the mind; infinitely bined;
interwoven with associated ideas and acquired knowledge。 No thoughtful
person will believe that what I said about the meaning of footsteps is
strictly true of mere jolts and jars。 It is an array of the spiritual in
certain natural elements; tactual beats; and an acquired knowledge of
physical habits and moral traits of highly organized human beings。 What
would odours signify if they were not associated with the time of the
year; the place I live in; and the people I know?
The result of such a blending is sometimes a discordant trying of
strings far removed from a melody; very far from a symphony。 (For the
benefit of those who must be reassured; I will say that I have felt a
musician tuning his violin; that I have read about a symphony; and so
have a fair intellectual perception of my metaphor。) But with training
and experience the faculties gather up the stray notes and bine them
into a full; harmonious whole。 If the person who acplishes this task
is peculiarly gifted; we call him a poet。 The blind and the deaf are not
great poets; it is true。 Yet now and again you find one deaf and blind
who has attained to his royal kingdom of beauty。
I have a little volume of poems by a deaf…blind lady; Madame Bertha
Galeron。 Her poetry has versatility of thought。 Now it is tender and
sweet; now full of