Edwin Arlington Robinson, not the sunniest of poets, writes to his friend Harry de Forest Smith on May 13, 1896:
“If printed lines are good for anything, they are bound to be picked up some time; and then, if some poor devil of a man or woman feels any better or any stronger for anything that I have said, I shall have no fault to find with the scheme or anything in it. I am inclined to be a trifle solemn in my verses, but I intend that there shall always be at least a suggestion of something wiser than hatred, and something better than despair.”
Robinson
never expounded a formal theory of poetry. He was too busy writing it and was not
temperamentally given to sermonizing or abstract thought. His verse often has
more in common with fiction than with the lyric
poetry of his day (he wrote stories before poems). His characters do the talking, as in “Isaac and Archibald.” William
Stanley Beaumont Braithwaite was an African-American poet, anthologist and teacher
who in 1913 asked Robinson what “message” he propounded in his poetry. Robinson
replied:
“I suppose a
part of it might be described as a faint hope of making a few of us understand
our fellow creatures a little better, and to realize what a small difference
there is, after all, between ourselves, as we are, and ourselves, not only as
we might have been but would have been if our physical and temperamental
make-up and our environment had been a little different.”
Robinson
seemed to think of his poems as a potential form of consolation, without ham-handed moralizing.
He wanted readers to (a) draw pleasure from his words and narratives; (b) perhaps fortify their characters. He inherited a New England moral seriousness tempered
by an understanding of human weakness. He implicitly endorses what Dr. Johnson writes
in his review of Soame Jenyns’ A Free
Enquiry Into the Nature and Origin of Evil: “The only end of writing is to
enable the readers better to enjoy life, or better to endure it.”
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