Red Wing sentinel. [volume] (Red Wing, M.T. [i.e. Minn.]) 1855-1861, 1859-04-16
A NEW hook OF POEMS,

A recent number Of Caaanba,s's Jcur,,a
thus jiscoutscs Of a new volume Of verse
which is apparently worth notice, albeit the
author IS an unknown parsonage, and the
subject not an inviting one for the great mas;
Of readers Of poetry. D.. H:~ss sv ,sap.q @
Although we have good authority for tht
belief that "the Poetry Of Life is never dead, >
the general ,opinion has been always slow tc
crceit it,. Poetry is thought to be to Youth
very much as the mcascls arc to Childhood
it rarely makes upon IA a second attack, and
still more seldom seiz,s us for tho first time
in Maturity. When gentleman gets round,
and balls, and addicted to dropping asleep for
few minutes after dinner it seems to be
UNIVERSAL, agree upon that nc had better
givct the writing OF verses. Itis held, in
deed, scarcely dccorous for professional
man Of any standing to devote even his lei
sure hours to The muse. We are told that
Mr.. Samuel Rogers second volume OF pc!
ems lost the banking l.os,sc one Of it's richest
clients. The gentleman incontii,ently with,
drew his money from the custody Of firm,
one Of home was openly and unblushingly
addicted to rhy,ning. ''sir,' affirmed he,
when demonstrated with, # | knew that
my banker had ever even ,zi3 good thing,
would close my account with him the. next
morning." TO have written such, and in
verse too, WIS in his eyes declaration Of
insolvency. The world certainly shares in
this opinion to a considerable cxtont Our
few. professional bar,lS are alone permitted
to be exceptions to the rule, and that is ra,h.
or because. by virtue u their calling, they
arc not supposed to grow old at all. The
idea of "old Mr.. Tennyson"- although by
the mere register the Loureate must be ''get-
ting mp in years." as one Of his parodists has
its little short Of blasphemous, and not to
b. entertained by cultivated mind. e.: 81.
whatare myrtles and wreaths to the brow that
They're like !" dead flower with May-dow DO :
sprinkled, :'. n.-.. -,.4 ~
says'a post who himself was not permitted
to see forty summers; after that epoch, it is
winters only which bards see, if their own
writings are to be evidence. The late deci-
sion at the Crystal Palace; which adjudged
the first laurel to young lady, and the sec.
ond to boy sixteen years Of age, will con-
firm the above opinion. = > n ''ie
Stall, it seems strange that Lie should
form poetical materials TO- those only who
have experienced its trials; that Love should
only b. sung ofbefore marriage; that Death
should be mourned in song. only by those
who have never lost child. We have, how
ever, in the volume before us (Lays Of Mid
die Age, by James Heddorwick,) protes.
Of the most persuasive kind against this in
consistency-a book more pregnant with
solemn feeling, with loving, calm philosophy,
than any we have met with since the In. Ne
n.u;aa. The glow from the, embers Of the
heart-fire aickcrs Upon every page ;; not
brightly, nor even chccrfu]ly. but leaving
half in that suggostful shadow fur dearer,
aye, aud clearer, to the tried human ne arr
than any light. Gracefulness and tenlcr
feeling are the characteristics Of the author
rather than power, but that IS no reason why
such lays as his should lack welcome. He
himself answers the question Of Where Gora
more verses p when already poetry over.
whelms US like the wondrous growth %
some. hot climate the foliage rife Of smoth.
erins summers faint with musk and rhyme
and in q very satisfactory manner. ..::
Tl,cre is no waste. Let the eternal GOLD has
From genius mint be scattered myrindf0ld: :
Mover y star was lannche bnt its fine rays 4
Took some small shade Of darkness from the
~. night: ~ ls"-' tF b .f .-s- 'as'7 #
The stream that sings unseen among the fern:
Pears welcome Increase to tho oceans might
Even the mnutcSt flower the sense discerns
fhrithes all the brea,hs If summer days. VS. f.
Here follows an experience Of loss such as
ajuvenile poet could scarcely have met with
and in attempting to describe which, hi
would have been pretty sure. to have over.
stepped tic modesty of nature. There is
here, however, M storm OF despair, but on
ly ,h,cal,n sympathy Of a fe,'ing mancfor .
friends irre;,arable grief The rhythm ha:
the ease and grace Of Ternyson. the maste
Of that school Of which our author is at leas
oAc Of the hsad-boys; the pupil,teachers. /
is called Pissed Aw"y.' 20. -, - s2';'.,''
Peace lwc}ls at last With poor Elizabeth. ! 80.
Wife Of my trusted friend. The end has come
There is no trcmnlous voice to call him home
And yet he goes, and sits alone with death, g
Taough useless now his tender ministries.
There ii no fictting at his absence now; +
Ycssits he Ev kcr silc AMI sadly tries sd. :
70 gather soothing from her tranquil brow
Aid stony boston whi,' ut rulse CT breath.
Tile evcrel watching has been all in vain;
The struggle NOW has ct,ca in defeat: ''.''
Yet in her aspect il rest 50 sweet o a.. y
That were she walked she might again complain
O who could wish to wiring her human heart
With one papg mlorc' But past is every fear
Etillcl by tho mystery that y ould not Start
Although IL cannon tluntcrcd at her ear VI
Although hcr, little intal1. cried with pain.
Al, me! tina one 80 beautiful should die!
Fu,l on her widowed husband ere she went,
bike light within shattered tenement,
fingered tho last love-lustre ofAer eye.
On the vague threshold 0" the unseen II ~
She paused; then rcchly. from her finger too
The yoliencirclet of the mortal wife, IS. =
Placed it on HIS with re assuring cook f