The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1868-11-20
LITERATURE.
REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.


RURAL Poems. BY William Barnes. Published
by Roberts Brothers, Boston. IN Pnils1epnla
Agent, g. w. Pitcher, No. SOo Che5nut
street.
Messrs. Roberts Brothers are winning for
themselves an envable reputation as the pub
fishers OF really good books. They have been
particularly fortunate in introducing to the
American public some OF the best Of the
rising generation of English poets. Jean
Iugeow, Christina Rosetti, and, notably,
William Morris with his "Jason" and noble
"Earthly Paradise"
The splendid success Of this last named
work is as gratifying to all lovers of genuine
poetry as it must be to the author and his
publishers. No poem given to the world
during the last twenty years was received
with the same universal tokens of delight as
the "Earthly Paradise" and there are few
which have so we'll deserved the same hearty
and enthusiastic praise which it has received
on all sides. This work has already passed
through number of editions, and
1t is likely to increase in popularity
as readers become more familiar with
its merits An appropriate supplement to the
''Earthly Paradise" is the little volume Of
Rural Poems by William Barnes, which
Messrs. Roberts Brothers have just issued in
holiday garb, and with illustrations by Ham
NETT Billings and Winslow Homer. The sim
plicity of style and poetic appreciation Of the
Homely scenes and incidents Of everyday
country life, which Wadsworth theorized
about, is natural instinct with Mr.. Barnes.
He has the rare, very rare, faculty Of giving
poetic cast to the most commonplace subjects.
and with the exception of some dainty little
idyls by the early English poets, we know of
nothing with which the majority OF the verses
. in the little book before us can be compared.
Mr.. Barnes versi6cation is often original and
novel, and in looking over this collecti on of
poems we find scarcely anything that can be
objected to from a critical point of view. Here
is little idyl, homely as homely can be in
subject, but We think it very charming never
theless:-
THE BROKEN JUG.
Jenny and Tom.
(Tom idly swings about jenny Jug, and breaks
1t against u stone.)
Jas if you could not leave the Jug alone!
Now you have smack d my jug:
Now you have whack'd my jug;
Now you have crack'd my jug,
.... F.rEe Against the stone. d.
1.-THE jug was crack'd before, unknown to
so doh,t belle the stone;
II scarce went nigh the stone,
And broke in two.
J.-oh crackd before! no! that was sound
From back to lip was sound,
TO stand or tip WAS sound,
10 hold or dip was sound.
Don t talk such stuff.
T.-How high then must L take its price to
reach?
I'D buy some more es good;
I'd buy score as good;
ia buy store as good; -
J.-Indeed when stonen jugs were sold SO dear !
No. there's q tap for lies;
And there's slap for lies;
And there's rap for lies,
About your ear.
T-Oh! there are pretty hands! a little dear!
In direrent vein is the following, which is
characterized by fine pathos and delicate
feeling not often equalled by more pretentious
poets:--
THE WIND AT THE DOOR.
AS daylight darken'd on the dewless grass,
There STILL with no one come to me,
TO stay awhile at home by me,
Within the house, now dumb by me,
sat me still as eveningtide did pass
And there windblast shook the rattling door,
And seemed, as wind did moan without,
AS If my love alone Without,
And standing on the stone without
Had there come back with happiness once more
/ went to door, and out from trees, above
My head, upon the blast by me,
Sweet blossoms there we're cast by me,
AS II my love had paSs'd by me,
And flung them down, token OF her love.
Sweet blossoms of the tree where now mourn,
thought. if you did blow for her,
For apples that should grow for her,
And fall red-ripe below for her,
Oh! then how happy should see you kern.
But no. Too soon the fond illusion broke,
Mo a
No fair one, tripping light, like her,
No wife, of comely height like her,
Went by, but all my grief again awoke.
There are many pieces which We are tempted
to quote, but those which we have given and
the following must suffice as samples OF Mr..
Barnes verse, and we are mistaken If they
do not induce lovers of poetry to purchase the
book and investigate its merits for themselves
This idyl we think is the gem Of the collec-
tion:-
HOMES NEST.
A father F) and neighbor or chorus of neigh
bors (C)
F.-Here under the porch's grey bow,
All my children have shot TO and fro,
With a sleek little head.
O. Homes nest
F.-Here are windows where hills in the blue
OF the sky, SO long shone TO their view,
And the SUMS evening red-darted in,
And the hooks where their toetips all sprang,
And the walls and the places that rang
With their igh.screaming din.
c. Homes a nest;
Oh home is a nest of the spring,
Where cnlloren may grow To take wing
F.-As small. footed maidens here walk'd
BY their mother, their little tongues talk'd
To her down looking face.
nafsy