# Poems (Lambert)/Opinions of the Press

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS.
From the New York Tribune.
A volume of Poems, by Mary E. Tucker, published by M. Doolady, is apparently of Southern origin, and derives a certain interest from its expression of Southern feelings during the war, and its allusions to the sufferings of the South since the restoration of peace. At the same time, it is not intended to exert a sectional influence, much less to nourish the sentiment of contempt and hate for the lovers of the Union, a feature which is justly complained of in a recent collection of poetry of the war by Mr. Gilmore Simms. Nor is any considerable portion of its contents devoted to themes of local interest, but on the contrary, they are drawn from the general experience of life, and depict the emotions which arise from its vicissitudes in a mind of more than ordinary sensitiveness. The poems are the effusions of an excitable nature, with an ear attuned to the melodies of rhythm, and an experience familiar with the gradations of sorrow and joy. They do not pretend to be the exponents of deep thought, or to have been prompted by the highest impulses of the imagination. With their modest claims, they need not be brought to the test of an austere ​judgment, and their frequent sweetness of versification, and their pleasant, if not brilliant fancies, entitle them to a respectable place in the poetry of feeling and aspiration.
From the Record.
Poems. By Mary E. Tucker.—This collection of simple rhymes, published by the authoress "in the hope that they may be souvenirs of the years and the scenes which cannot die out of the memory of this generation," will make a charming gift book for the coming holiday season. The volume is beautifully got out, printed on fine tinted paper, and embellished with a portrait of the poetess herself. Strictly speaking, Mrs. Tucker's muse is not martial; it does not sing of war and war's alarms, of ruined cities, or scattered hosts, but contents itself with what may be called the domestic side of patriotism, and draws its inspiration from feeling rather than thought. In the words of the preface, out of a simple woman's heart these rivulets of rhyme have run. They may not be great, nor broad, nor deep.—She trusts that they are pure."
From the Citizen.
Poems. By Mary E. Tucker.—Mrs. Tucker has prefaced this dainty little volume with her own portrait, and on first opening the book we wondered why she had published either the portrait or the poems.
But between the two there is a striking resemblance. After looking at the face for a little, you grow to like it for its kind, pleasing, truthful, womanly expression. And so, ​too, the verses, though they are not, strictly speaking, beautiful, improve vastly upon acquaintance. They are true and sincere in sentiment, and sufficiently smooth in versification. There is no affectation, no unhealthy sentimentality about them; but many of them possess a simple, touching pathos that is infinitely above the simulated sorrow so dear to the school-girl mind.
We trust that these poems will be received with favor, both for their own sake, and for the sake of the sincere, womanly face of the fair author.
From the News.
Poems. By Mary E. Tucker.—We have received a volume briefly entitled "Poems," the authoress being a young Southern lady, Mrs. Mary E. Tucker, "out of whose simple woman's heart," as she herself says in the preface, "these rivulets of rhyme have run." Miss Tucker does not speak to the public from the grand and towering heights of Parnassus; her muse lingers modestly in the quiet nooks upon the hillside, and gathers the unpretending wild flowers, that appeal more to the heart than to the imagination, or the ardent passions of humanity. She has wreathed these into a pretty bouquet of poesy, well worthy the acceptance of the public. The style of this young contributor to the literature of our country is simple, pure and unaffected. We can appreciate in her productions, if not the inspiration of genius, the overflowings of a womanly nature; poetical, not because of splendid imagery, great thoughts or deep philo​sophy, but because of the tenderness and pathos that come without effort from a guileless and feeling heart.
From the Mercury.
More than one fair young literary graduate of the Promenade has subsequently achieved distinction in the general world of elegant letters; and not unfrequently have such graceful favorites of fame come back to us, here, under the disguise of assumed names, and rattled on in the ancient style, just for old acquaintance sake. The latest ambitious aspirant from our pleasant circle is that arch magnolia belle from Georgia—our irrepressible and piquante "Nancy Gossip"—whose New Year present to the venerable Colonel is a remarkably tasteful little volume of her poems, from the enterprising press of Doolady. In the light of this new introduction, and by the further light of a portrait on steel in the same pretty book, the dashing Miss Gossip is transformed into the charming Mrs. Mary E. Tucker; possessor of a thoughtfully-handsome face, and a pair of such eloquent eyes as can flash with the coming repartee in one moment, and darken with "melancholy's misty vail" in the next. This volume, therefore, in a revelation which justifies the Colonel in giving Mrs. Tucker a new introduction to her Sisters of the Promenade, and it is as a poetess who has published a book that she must henceforth be honored among us. Possibly we may be expected to follow up this announcement with a wonderfully sage and appreciative criticism of the lady in her new rank; but we prefer to let each mem​ber of our command pay her dollar-and-a-half for the volume and judge for herself. Sober criticism is so much of a bore generally, that the Colonel hasn't the conscience to venture it in a department like the Promenade, save when some present Promenader's intellectual vagaries call for its exercise in a reproving sense; but there is no resisting the temptation to quote at least one reminder of inimitable "Nancy Gossip" from the varied contents of the volume on our desk, and we select this lively tribute to "Apple Dumplings." * * * * In such poems as "The First Gray Hair," "My Mother's Voice," "Christmas Eve, South, 1865," and "Aria to Poetus," the fair singer is seen to advantage in her more serious moods. To conclude; we congratulate our Promenader on her accession to the honors of a printed volume, and hope that the dignities of bookdom will not restrain her from relaxing occasionally, as of yore, with "our girls."