New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1867-11-14
NEW PUBLICATIONS.
MISS CARYs LOVERS DIARY.

LOVERS DIARY by ALICE SAHf' '1NiO' iF' --''
Tho corrso of tre love, which runs moro
amoothly in Miss Carys melodlons verses lhah IL
ever did between real Lysander and Hernia Is cele
brated in this dainty volume with certain graceful
softness of expression rather than with the IN
tsns;tv Of ardent passion. The hero tells his not
over romantic story with cOmmendable naivete, re-
yealine the hopes and fears and joys which have
sheckered his experience in frank and delicate
phrase if not with audacious vigor of description.
His language perpetually betrays the contagious IN
duenee of the poets whose company he has kept re-
ninding MS of their fragrant beauty, al rose-water
reminds us of rOse-gMlen. If he shows but
slight degree of creative power, we must remember
shat this was not essential in the diary of lover.
and thankfully accept in its place the purity and
sweetness of sentiment which seems native IN DIS
heart and the gracious trust with which he wei
comes usto his innermost confidence. The hmpu
6ow Of his yersfcaton is in admirable keeping WIZ"
the tender alectonateness of his feelings anu INC
soft rural images of the natural beauty anna WHICH
his love was born and happily rewarded The PIC
ture of his little sweetheart years OLD retains
the simple charm of the original.
When remember the time met,
/ pause for a little, aud give God praise,
That he Of his grace, in my life has set,
That gladdest gOldenest day OF my da!S
Breaking ont of her homespun gown.
just like wildhOwer out OF It's DuIr;
Legs bare 10 the knees ana the snouideI -, uo"n
To the waist maryeed ana museo aS hei'
Her hands had been kissed and kissed by the sun
berries: she held her HAIR
Away from her dOye-ke eyes with one,
And stared ut me, straight as eyes e0hd STARE
One moment-then being well content,
She dropt the tresses, that over the white,
Clear brow and sweet eyes came and went
Like shadows blowing across the hght
"a picture, such as the painterloyes,"
said, and passed, but she would not stays
Those sweet eyes staring, round ms doves
Held me and haunted Inc All the Day
One foot on the other, bare and brown
The shining fall OF her deadleaf mar
Legs and shoulders out OF her gown
She held me and haunted me- everywhere
The lovely maiden lost no one OF her winning
traits as she grew up to girlhoOd.
My darling, d0ve-eyed Mona,
And her feet they fly along the grass
Like little milkwhite wings!
In her life and in the season
And her heart is like a flower that lies
In the sunshine all the day.
The cows that feed in the meadow,
They know her song like cah
And lit their heads from the clover,
And follow her. one and all
Along the daisied hnlsidcs.
And through the valleys green,
As loyal to the little mad
AS sub eCts 70 tluiI queen
Seeing her you would say the year
Had stolen the tender streaks
From all the wlldings OF the woods,
And put them in her cheeks.
Mona my dove-eyed Mona
She Is fair and she Is gay,
And would that for her beauty's sake
II might be always May.
BY the time she was fifteen, her lover finds her
paragon of perfection in no respect inferior to the
angels and with perhaps triae too little of reserve
inyites us to share his infatuation.
Her language is so sweet and ft
You never have enough Of IL.
If she smiles, the house Is bright
Without any eandleight
Whether that rhair is rolled
Round an ivory comb, or gOld
PINNED or DO, cannot tells
In itself it shines so well.
whether she doth wear her coat
Loose, OF buttoned to the throat,
Hens or rufles, plain or gay,
Seems 10 me the sweetest way.
She's so pitiful TO all,
Signs, as If by chance, do fail,
Daily, in her childhke prayers.
Getting heavenward unawares
Every little word she speaks,
Sends the color 10 her checks,
Ripping high and ripping low
Over bosom, over brow;
Like GOdiva in the tale,
Modesty with bushes sweet
Would cOthe her all from head 10 feet-
By her innocence she awes
Evil from her; through loves laws,
That so bind US like cord,
Each to ALL she seeks the Lord.
Our readers will rejoice to be explicitly apprzed
of what we have already hinted that the heart of
the good little Mona was tender as her form was
fair. and that in due time the applications of the
lover received their natural answer. The curtain
does not fall even after marriage and we RECALLED
with fine gmpses of domestic felicity that has sur
yived the light and shade of rapid years.
sweefy we live, my wife and I,
6weetly all the time,
AS May rose in her house OF leaves,
on poet in his rhyme
Oft in her pale and quiet cheeks
dash OF red doth show
Her heart IS fiuttering like wheel
In the wave of love below.
I cali nv good wife Charity,
And she bushes at the name,
Though she gave the light of her hair and eyes,
To our baby, when 1t came.
Gweetiy we live-her gentle brows
Know not the way to frOwn,
And never that her head is gray,
And her shoulders STOPPING down.
The admirers of Miss Cary's poetry viii doubtless
recognize in these extracts the qualities which have
given her warm and cherished place in the affec
tions Of many American households Her new vol
ume affords an attractive illustration Of her powers
of fancy and expression, her genuine womanly ma
ture and her familiarity with the highest living
amples of poeteai inspiration 1t is brought out in
beautiful holiday style, with pictorial embellish-
ments from the hands Of several popular artists
Grin S)nhIifators