New-York tribune., 1869-04-16
pIATTS POEMS.

and graceful fancy which loves to gather materials
for expression among quiet scenes OF natural beauty
and from manifestations of human passion In the
everyday routine Of life. His descriptions of exter-
nal nature are drawn from personal experience, and
reproduce with faithful pencil many Of the grand
and beautiful features of his favorte scenery In the
West. They are Enthusiastically inspired by genuine
love- by sympathy with the human associations that
cluster around the spot which he celebrates and In
many instances are softened and almost glorifed by
an expression of sweet and tender pathos The fol-
lowing scene presents an example of Nlr. Piatts
faithful adherence to reality without falling into
tho dry and pedantic ways of poetical mannerist
FIRES IN ILLINOIS.
How bright this weird autumnal eve,
While tho wild twilight clngs around,
Clothing the grasses every. where
With scarce u dream OF sound!
The high horizons northern line,
With many silentleaping splre.
Seems dark shore-a sea OF ilaine-
Quick, crawling waves OF lire
I stand In dusky solitude,
October breathing low and chill.
And watch the far-of blaze that leaps
At the winds wayward WILL
These houndess fields, behold. once more,
Sea.like In vaushd Summers stir;
From yanisfd Autumns comes the Fire
lone, bright haryesterl
Isee wido terror lit before
Wild steeds, fierce herds OF bison here,
And, blown before tue flying flame,
The ngfooted deerl
Long trains with shaken BELLS that moved
Along red twights sinking slow
Whose wheels grew weary on their way,
Far westward, long ago;
Lone wagons biyouackd in the blaze,
That, long ago, streamed wildly past;
Faces fCOm that bright solitude
In the hot gleam aghastl
glare OF faces like dream,
No history after or before,
inside the horizon with the tames
The hames-nobody morei
That vision vanlshes in me.
Sudden aud swift and fierce and bright;
Another genter vision fills
The solitude, tonight;
The horizon rghtens everywhere,
The sunshine rocks on windy maize;
Uark, everywhere ARC busy men,
Aud children at their plays
Far church-spires twinkle ut the sun,
From villages OF quiet born.
And, far and near and every where,
Homes stand amid the corn
No longer driven by wind, the Fire
Makes all the vast horizon glow,
But, numberess as the stars above,
The windows shine below
Many Of tho poems in this volume betray more
subtle vein Of reaecton and both in form and senti
mont, indicate hand that derives its cunning from
an inward impulse. with no touch OF the mechanical
imitation that grows out Of the idoatry Of favorite
models. We quote an example in point which has
the ring Of true inspiration and not the echo Of
foreign voice.
Along the sultry city street,
Faint subtle broaths OF fragrance meet
Me, wandering unaware
I'm April warmth, while yet the sun
For Spring no constant place has won)
by many vacant square,
Whoever reads these lines has felt
That breath whose longlost perfumes melt
The spirt-nowly found
While tho sweet, banshed families
Of oarth's forgotten sympathles
Rise from tho sweating ground.
It the subtitle breath OF grass;
And rs pause, or lingering pass,
With haltshllt eyes, behold
Bright from old baptisms OF dew
Fresh meadows burst upon my view,
And new becomes the oldI
Old longings pleasure kissing Pain.
Old visions VISIT me again
The fountan-heads of memory now
Through channels dry so long ago,
with music long unheard
think Of pastures, svermoro
Greener than any hour before.
Where cattle wander slow,
Largeuddered In the sun, or chew
Tho cud content In shadows now,
Or, shadows, homeward low.
Idream of prairies dear to me:
Their widening miles arise.
Where, like the butterfly anear,
Far of In sunny mist the deer
That seems no larger, flies.
Back TO me, grateful with tho hum
or every thing that stirs:
Dear places, saddend by the years,
Lost to my sight send sudden tears,
Their secret messengers
think OF paths a.swarm with wings
or bird and beo-a lovely things
From sunny cl0d;
ofplay-grounds where the children play.
And fear not Time will como to-day,
And feel the warming sod.
New grass 10 grows by cottage doors,
In orchards Lush'd with bloom, by shores
or streams that flow green,
On hll-slopes white with tents or sheep,
And where tho sacred mosses keep
The holy dead unseen,