The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1889-12-25
HOME LITERATURE.
A Recent Instance Of Utah's
Poetic Genius.
BISHOP WHITNEY'S NEW BOOK.
Selections From the WOrk-His Slashing
Satire on the Times-A Tribute to
Home Talent Past and Present.
BY sUsA YOUNG GATES.

10 one WIS ASKS III al SluOCAAbg1 w Id
has been Utah's progress in the last ter
years!' several replies might be given
The great strides taken in commerce, in
science, in art, and in literature can be
named with pride by the answering resi-
dent of these valleys.
Men leave the impress of their energy in
brick and stone, of their aims and ideals
in sculpture and painting, of their feelings
in music, but upon the page of literature
they write their souls Italy is famous for
her Milo and Michael Angelo, is remem-
bered for her gorgeous pantheons and
colosseums, but she lives for all time in the
hearts Of men because of her magician
Virgil, her fervid Dante. Rocks crumble,
canvas may perish marble be shattered,
but the songs sung by the poet-the heart
language of the age-live on through
= change and are eternal.
Utah has not been sleeping nor silent;
we Ii. given to the world Dallin, while
poor Brown was cut down ere bis talent
had fully ripened. Musicians know such
names as Careless, as Stephens, as Weihe,
Pratt, Krouse and Radcliffe, while many
sweet singers bear our laurels aloft.
SuCFtlOpulSuG hluSlS las OOCh n1OCh
greater than in any of her sister arts. Yet
we also have had such sweet MINISTRIES as
Sarah z. Carmichael, such inspired poetic
oraeles as Eliza K. Snow, and since, many
women have shown themselves, in greater
or less degree, to abe possessor Of literary
genius.
We are Lroud, likewise of the small army
of gifted journalists and writer's, who are
daily increasing. Such names as Penrose,
Nicholson, Goodwin and Groo are worthy
of high place on the walls of journalistic
fame.
We have our poets, too Few, perhaps,
but none the less gifted. The life of care
and labor, the constant struggle with the
elements for daily bread, in all times has
served to restrain the song while yet upon
the lips. True, the Scotch had their
ploughman- poet, but when he decided at
last to unfetter the bird in his breast and
let it soar heavenward, he left his plow
Iafield and sought the more congenial
haunts of men and minds. Genius is a
Jealous mistress, and brooks no rival in
the hearts she deigRs to call her own.
Not all musicians can voice the glorious
melodies which at times beat and surge in
dim, vague, beauty through their souls;
not all poets can tel in tuneful numbers
the strange and vivid fancies that
sometimes shake the heart with silent rap
ture. Yet unto them is given the power to
mount on Mozarts witching melodies or
soar in Handels mighty sound chariots
away into the vast eXpanse of music's para
disc. Such, too, may feel in Milton's grand
cadences, in Longfellow's soulful numbers,
the very echoes Of their own wordless
emotions.
That there are many poet hearts in Utah,
many who can be lifted on the soul-wings
of another's poetry, Is evinced by the
ardent admiration that has ever been called
forth by the poetic achievements of such
writers as Farley P. Pratt, Lyon, Penrose,
Jacques, Naisbitt, Nicholson, Mills, the
Sloans, Tullidge, or Condor, Meears, Whit
ney, Stayner, Miss Snow, Miss Carmichael,
Mrs. E. B. Wells, Mrs. H. T. King, Mrs.
Crocheron, Mrs. Woodmansee, Mrs.
Richards, L. L. Dalton, Ruby Lamont,
Josephine Spencer, Mrs. Jakeman, Mrs.
Tanner and others. The works of most of
these are familiar to the public from their
well known hymns, songs and miscellane-
GUS illusions, and several of them have
attained the celebrity of authors of pub
vAshed volumes
This brings me at once to the theme in
hand, the most recent instance of home
literature, found in the book just issued
from the press, entitled "The Poetical
Writir gs of Orson F. Whitney''-a poet |
whose recognized gifts assure his first com
pilation a warm and widespread welcome. |
His creed, mis- views may differ from those /
of his chance reader, but all who read or
hear his sweet and sublime cadences are
constrained to say, behold a poet is arisen |
among US; let US honor him.
1t is a matter in which every inhabitant |
of Utah may take pride and pleasure, that |
during these days of cheer and rejoicing a
book of the various poems written by
Whitney has been published. The value of
such testimonial to our intellectual pro-
gross and advancement cannot be too highly |
estimated. For when we talk of Utah and |
her greatness, we mean the might and mag |
nitude of the intellects which have grown
and developed within her borders.
l have had the pleasure of reading an ad- |
vance copy of the work referred to, and al |
though many of the poems and songs are as
fl miliar to me as are the melodies of Bry |
ant or Tennyson, yet was 1 exceedingly re-
joiced to see them gathered as it were from
their nebulous state, along with others of
Mr.. Whitney's production which had never
appeared print, and fashioned into lasting
form and shape by their author. A style of
printing and binding has been chosen from
among the most advanced methods of the
printers art Everything is essentially
frst-class. A clear, large type, lines triple
loaded, and with generous margins, make
the book a welcome treat TO the eye wearied .
by age or over work. The paper is extra
quality, while the binding includes three
STYLES, which will bring the book within
the reach of every reader. 1t is volume
of about two hundred pages
The preface is the preface of poet, each
thought being enclosed in musical words.
The opening poem or invocation bears date
January, 1882, but might well have been
written especially for this volume.
In reading the opening stanzas of the in
vocation, my mind was led to contemplate,
in contrast, the hard, impoetic materialism
of to day. The lines begin:
God of my Fathers! Friend OF humand kind,
Almighty moulder Of creative mind
That sitt'st enthroned aloft from mortal ken,
Showering thy mercies en- the sons OF men!
From the Greeks has descended the ira
dition of the tabled muse who, although
IN moro modern times known to be a myth