The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1851-05-01
LITERARY NOTICES.

fOkm3 BY w. Y. BENNETT. bOnuVu' Onapman "
PIP. 262.
We have for some time past watched with in
terest the progress of the author Of this volume,
for in some Of his earliest pieces we discerned as
we thought, the promise of successful candidate
for literary honor There is much in this little
collection to confirm our first Impressions The
authors fancy is bold, rather than delicate: he
does not belong to the metaphysical or transcen-
dental school his inspiration "comes Of observa-
tionn rather than reverie and mental introversion
The Lines to Skylark-a dangerous subject to
touch after Shelley and the Ettriok Shepherd
have the true lyrical fire Listen to this burst
Of gladness and rapture, like the skylark's OWE.
from the clear heaven of morning:
Dup, no white star hath the west
All is morning, all is day
Earth in trembling light lies blest;
Heaven lie sunshine-up, away
Up! the primrose lights the lane;
Up! the boughs with glsdness ring
Bent are blue-belled flowers again,
Dropped with bees-oh, soar and sing
"Ah! at last thou beatst the sun,
Leaving low thy nest OF love;
Higher, higher, quivering one,
Shrillest thou up and up above;
Wheel on wheel the white day through,
Might thus with ceaseless wing,
Steep steep Of airy blue,
Fling me up and soar and Singh
The "Winter Song" has the genial heartiness
of Christmas fre-side in old England, and the
exaltation and sparkling merriment Of a New
England sleigh-ride. 1.-THE Dress Makers
Thrush is sad and touching wall Of human
suffering, destined, like Hoods Song Of Shirt
and Elizabeth Barretts aCry of the Human" to
awaken sympathy for the poor and wrong wher-
ever it is heard Had the author written moth
ing beside, the sweet pathos of this little poem
would 20 far to enttle him to an honorable place
among the living poets Of England.
THE DRESS MAKERS THRUSH.
Oh! tits the brightest morning,
Out in the laughing street,
That ever the round earth flashed into
The joy of May to meet
Floods Of more cleaning sunshine
Never the eye rolled
Over pavement and chimney and cold, gray spire
That turns in the light to gold;
And yet as she YEARLY stitches,
She hears her Gagged thrush sing:
Oh, would 1t never were May, green May,
IL never were bright bright spring!
Light of the newborn verdure!
Glory Of jocund May!
What gadness is out in leafy lanes
What joy in the fields to-day!
What sun bursts are in the woodlands!
What blossoms the orchards throng
The meadows showed with daisy stars,
And the wings thrilled with song;
And yet, a. ever she stitches, --
She hears her Gagged thrush sing:
Oh vnuld IL never ~s-y, s---- rruy,
1tnever were bright, bright Spring!
Close is the court and darkeDed
On which her bare room looks,
Whose only wealth 10 its walls one print,
And its mantle's few old books,
spare cold bed in the corner,
Her single worn worn chair,
And the CRATE that looks rusty and dull
- As never q fire there
And there, as she stitches and stitches,
She hears her Gagged bird sing:
Oh would 1t never May, green May,
1t never were bright, bright Spring
Out is the cleaning sunshine!
- Out is the golden air.
In scarce CLEAN of the bright May sun
Can dullsd and dim reach there!
In the close damp air Of darkness
That blanohes her cheek to white
Her rounded features sharpen and thin,
And dus her once keen sight;
And there, As she sits and stitches,
She and her Gagged thrush sing:
Oh, would It never we're May, green May,
1t never were bright, bright Spring.
Days that are cloudy and dull
Winter, though winter bring
Cold, keen frost to her hreless reom,
Are dearer to her than Spring!
For then on her weary sewing
Less often her worst thoughts come
OF the pleasant lanes and the country air
And the woodpaths trod by some;
And 50, as she YEARLY stitches,
She and her Gagged bird sing:
Oh, would IL never May, green May,
1t never were bright, bright Spring
The contents Of the volume are very unequal.
Its more ambitious and studied poems are less to
our taste than the lyrics We have referred to:
J. G. w.
POEMS BIZ WILLIAM ALLINoHAn. London, 1850
From the authors well-written and modest
nreyace rather than from the book ITSELF which