.. before we are fit for
life.... No, I say, it is those very things we are to preserve. That's
what we have got them for."
Bjoernson's increasing Radicalism and his outspoken Socialistic
sympathies had by this time alienated a large portion of the
Scandinavian public. The cry was heard on all sides that he had ceased
to be a poet, and had become instead a mere political agitator. I cannot
deny myself the pleasure of quoting Bjoernson's reply when at his request
a friend repeated to him the opinion which was entertained of him in
certain quarters:
"Oh, yes," he cried, with a wrathful laugh, "don't I know it? You must
be a poet! You must not mingle in the world's harsh and jarring tumult.
They have a notion that a poet is a longhaired man who sits on the top
of a tower and plays upon a harp while his hair streams in the wind.
Yes, a fine kind of poet is that! No, my boy, I am a poet, not primarily
because I can write verse (there are lots of people who can do that) but
by virtue of seeing more clearly, and feeling more deeply, and speaking
more truly than the majority of men.
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