mystery. MacDowell would adore this piece of sculpture, for he sought
the secret of life in flower and brook and landscape, in mountain and
vale and sea.

Gilman compares the "Sea Pieces" to Walt Whitman and Swinburne. Like
Whitman, MacDowell is no strict adherent to set forms, placing
inspiration ahead of tradition. Some of his most beautiful
compositions are very brief. Poe claims that there is no such thing in
existence as a "long poem." Since a poem only deserves the name in
proportion to its power to excite and elevate the soul, and a
sustained condition of soul excitement and elevation is a psychic
impossibility, the oft-used phrase is a contradiction in terms.
Applying this idea to the familiar piano compositions of MacDowell,
they have every right to be called "tone poems." Poetry is the
color-work of the mind, as distinguished from its sculpture and
architecture, which represent mere form. There is more than form in
the compositions under consideration; the tinge of color is
everywhere, the wave of poetry that produces soul excitement and
elevation, from signature to final chord. While he handles a subject
broadly, as an impressionist, accomplishing striking effects with a
few bold, characteristic strokes, MacDowell still works out his tone
picture with considerable detail, carefully indicating the results he
wishes to achieve. He reminds one in his methods of Corot, the great
landscape painter. He will tell you to play a passage "very tenderly,"
or "somewhat savagely," or "daintily and joyously," not being content
with the usual color terms. When he is loud, he is very, very loud,
and in the same composition will have a passage marked with four p's.
He likes contrasts and uses them very effectively. His music has the
charm of infinite variety, but there is an insistent note of
sombreness pervading most of it that is heard even above the majesty