One cannot be a true poet, it seems to me, without at least an abiding
love and sympathetic appreciation of the finest in music, or a great
musician without a love of poetry and a responsiveness to its
witchery. The two arts are interdependent and well nigh inseparable. A
great musician may compose a song without words, but sooner or later
there will be born a poet-soul who, hearing the song, will be
irresistibly impelled to supply the words. On the other hand, many of
the greatest musical compositions we have were inspired, like most of
MacDowell's, by some poet's lines, a single figure, sentence or stanza
furnishing the theme of oratorio, cantata, opera or ballad. Schubert's
genius could be fired at any time, even under the most adverse
conditions, by a beautiful poem, and many writers have received the
inspiration for their masterpieces under the influence of music.

In some compositions combining both words and music, one will be very
much the inferior of the other, and the thoughtful student or listener
can but regret the discrepancy. Perhaps the words will be imposing and
the musical setting trivial, or the music rich and full of color, but
the words meaningless and inadequate. MacDowell's songs are
satisfying. In his work he reminds one very forcibly of Sidney Lanier,
whose genius was perfectly balanced. His music was full of poetry and
his poetry ran over with music. His was an harmonious nature and no
amount of external discord could cause him to lose his keynote.
Applying his own beautiful words to himself:

"His song was only living aloud,
His work a singing with his hands."

Lanier played beautifully upon a silver flute, which he lovingly
describes as "a petal on a harmony." He was a member of the Peabody