Red Wing sentinel. [volume] (Red Wing, M.T. [i.e. Minn.]) 1855-1861, 1859-04-16
"A NEW hobK0 Or PoEMs,1

"A NEW hook OF POEMS
A recent number Of Ghvab44s, .lc,.rnol
thus sdiscourses Of. new volume o. verse,
which is apparently worth notice, albeit the
author IS an unknown parsonage, and the
subjectnos an inviting one for the great mass
Of readers Of poetry. s.s g.t.rssrr .aga!a 8.
Although We have good authority tor the
belief that "the Poetry Of Life isncver dead, =
tho general opinion has been always slow to
crceit it,, Poetry is thought to be to- Youth
very much as the ncasels arc 70 Childhood !;
it rarely makes upon ns second attack, and
still more seldom seizss US for the, frst time
in Maturity. Whena gentleman gets round,
and balls, and addicted to dropping asleep for
few minutes after dinner, it seems to be,
UNIVERSAL, agreed upon that nc had better
givetn, the writing OF verse;. Itis held, in
decd, scarcely decoro,s for a professional
man Of any standing to devote even his lei.
sure hours TO- h. muse. We are toldithat
Mr.: Samuel Rogers ) second volume of po4
ems lost the banking house; one OF its richest
clients. The gentleman incontinently withs.
drew his money from the custody Of firm,
one Of home was openly and unblushingly
addicted to rhy,nins., "sir,'' affirmed he
when demonstrated with, II knew that
my banker had ever even s1il a good thing,
would close my account with him theenexr
morning. 70 have written such, and in
verse too was in his eyes declaration Of
insolvency. The world certainly shares in
this opinion to considerable cxtont. Our
few, professional bards are alone permitted
to be exceptions to the rule, and that is rath.
err 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 up 10 years." as one Of his parodists has
its little short Of blasphemous, and not to
b. Entertained BY cultivated mind. y 2.
Whatars myrtles and wreaths to the brow that
ais rinkled Z ,g .' 's:t ha eng brG sbar:a
They're like a dead flower with May-dew DO :
saysla poet, who himself was mot 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 Crystals Palace, which adjudged
the frs. laurel to young lady, and the sec.
ond to a boy sixteen years Of age, will con-
firm the above opinion. = Z = Jitia
Stall, it seems strange that Life 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 Ago, by James: Heddorwick,) protest
ofthe most persuasive kind against this in
consistency-a book more pregnant with
lnnteeling, withloving, calm philosophy,
than any we have met with since the As.Ne-
n.;r;ai.s The glow from the, einbers Of the
heart-fre flickers upon every page; !. not
brightly, nor even chccrfully, but leaving
half IN that susgostful shadow far dsarer
aye, aud clearer, to the tried human. he ar,
than any light. Gracefalness and ten1e,
feeling are, tho characteristics Of the author
rather than power, but that is no reason why
such lays as his should lack a welcome. He
himSelf answers the question of"Wheresors
more verses r when already poetry over.
whelms us like the wohdrous growth. .o
some hot clinate-''tIc foliage rife Of smoth.
erins summers faint will, musk and rhyme
and in very satisfactory manner. y: 9
There is no waste. Let the eternal cold h9Ei
From genius mint be kcattered myrindfold:
Mover u star was launche but its fneLraysE
:.Iook some small shade Of darkness from the
right +; pH A2b-t" h.'F s,1dt 4-f5 fr"s #
The stream that sings unseen among the fern:
Bears welcome increasc TO ths oceans might
Even tl,c minutest flower tho sense discerns
Enrithes all the breaths of summer days. a.. i
Here l1llows an experience Of loss such a
ajuyenile poet could scarcely have met with
ard in attempting to describes which, HI
would have been, pretty sure to, have over
stepped tic r.odestyi Of nature. There il
hero, however, no storm Of despair. but on
~ thtcal,n sympathy Of :afe,'ing ,aanaor
friends irre,arable grief. The rhythm ha
The ease and grace of'rernyson, the maste
Of that schoolof which o,E author is at leas
oac Of the head boy $; the ikteachers.: /
is called Pissed Aay: 70 O. '''E!' ,''''s ~.
Peace dwclls at last With poor Elizabeth. & 81
wife Of my trustcl1riyna:: The end has come
There is no trcmulcus v5ics to call him homo:
And yet he goes, and sits alone With death, ri
Taough useless now his tender ministries. ms
There ii no ffctting ut his absence now;i g f
sYcs.its he bv her sislo ans sadly tries ,li: :
80 cathcr soothing from her tr,.nqnil brow .
Aid story bost,n wah vt pulse CT breath 5z
on - tH5J't1lr ssi IT, .sjafI'b rs aGf siN
Tie fev,re,l watching has boon all in vain; 4
The struggle now has c,ided IN feat: Geo"