The representative. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1893-1901, 1896-01-08
A GREAT POETESS.
ONE OF THE IMMORTALS.


in this world who can boast of the posses
sion of such a sister as we have; and we
feel it is an injustice to the readers of
The Representative, who know us so
we'll, not to introduce her to them.
A prominent Eastern newspaper says
of her:
Miss Eleanor c. DOnnelly who has
been invited to read poem of her own
composition at the Atlanta Exposition, is
one Of an unusually gifted Philadelphia
family.
An elder brother is Ignatius Donnely
of Shakespearean cryptogram fame and
the author Of many books, noticeably
Caesars Column" "Dr. Huget" and
Atlantis" Her sisters, Eliza Sara and
Phillippa. have done excellent work in
the translation of German and Italian
works.
The writings OF Miss Eleanor Don
nelly, often compared to those of AIDE
laide Proctor, show the true poetic in
sight and give her an acknowledged place
among American writer's She has pub
lshed several volumes of verse: "Out of
Sweet Solitude "Domus Del" Chill
dren of the Golden Sheaf' and others.
The Atlanta Exposition is not the first
great occasion that Miss DOnnelly has
been called upon to celebrate in verse.
The American Historical Society APP
pointed her to write the ode for Phlla-
delphia's centennial of the adoption Of
the National Constitution in 1887, as we'll
as the columbian Ode" for this city's
commemoration in 1892, of the Quadri-
centennial of the discovery of America.
The best part of Miss DOnnelly's life
has been passed In the old colonial quar-
ter of Philadelphia and historic as well
as poetic interest centers around the old
fashioned residence on Pine street, be-
low Sixth, the title deeds of which go
back to the middle of the seventeenth
century. Just opposite this house in
1867, the low white tents of the Acadian
exiles from Grand Pre- were pitched and
only square away Evangeline and her
beloved Gabriel are said to sleep their
last sleep. Environment, training and
natural gifts have worked together to
make most charming personality.
Another writer, Charles OMalley.
writes, at length, a most eulogistic de-
scription of Miss Donnelly. We make
few extracts from his article.
One is inclined to deny analysis in Oc-
tOber, when naples and ashes take on
their first tints of yellow. Hearing the
low winds blow watching the gossa-
mers float across the fields-Our thoughts
go gipsying down leaf-strewn ways. and
We are prepared for the poet when he
comes to lead us into a land of light and
melody and dreams. IT, at such time,
we take up a volume. and idly turning
the pages, chance upon poem beginning
thus:
II have read somewhere, in a thoughtful
book
OF an old cathedral over the sea
"a wonder Of art, whose every nook
Is full of a charming mystery
That uD. high on the tOpmost point
Of roof and tower and belfry gray
(Which the gracious summer dews an
nont,
And the birds frequent in their airy
There are marvels of sculpture rare and
fine
Flower and fruit and trailing vine;
And lovely angels with folded wings.
Cut from the stone like living things:
And pure Madonnas and saints at prayer
With reverent heads and flowing hail
Colossal figures. by height diminished
With every lineament finely finished"
we Immediately wonder who is this poet
that sings with the tenderness of Long
fellow, the freedom of Lowell and the
grace Of Aldrich? Reading on We learn
more of the builder of this strange ca
thedral. We learn that he did not Ia Dor
for the praise Of men in this his work
that occupied the slow decades He
chisled only for God and his angels, aloft
on the tower there, while
Far. far below him the world was spread
Like painted picture. small and DIM
Ia nd
tread
OF mighty millions were lost on him
While the skies bent over him, blue and
broad,
So full of the awful, unseen God"
Something in the lessened splendor of
the day. something. perhaps, in the mol
low stiffness of autumn moves us to lis
ten to this earnest voice speaking up to
us out of the poets page. Evidently it
is the voice of one who has put off self
and the world and the poet gifted with
that 'eye that hath kept watch DER man S
mortality and this we feel assured
when the same voice asserts:
Tis worth an infinite treasure to know
(Whatever beside should be unknown)
How utterly false for the eyes of men
alone.
With the glare of glory such work may
win us,
While a selfish purpose narrows and
numbs
All that is noble and fresh within U.S.
'Tis only when self is dead and gone
And our souls from the mists of passion
free,
That the angels of God come in and crown
Our labors with Immortality
This is Christian singing It's very
keynote is Christian. Our nineteenth
century pagans do not insist upon such
truths. Our Bensons, Grant Aliens.
Frederic Harrisons, Mrs Humphry
Wards, Beatrice Harradens. Zolas, Ibsens
the vast horde of hedonists humanists,
pessimists, positivists, impressionists,
veritists-these prefer to ignore such di-
rect assertions. Their schools are es-
sentially pagan and these utterances are
too uncomfortable to be popular if adopt
ed therein. Who is this anyway who
thus dares protest at the very close of the
age? Turning to the title page we read,
Poems by Eleanor c. DonnelIy. Phila-
delphia: H. L. Kilner & Co., Publish
ers." 1t is a woman who has been
speaking to u.s.
be held to symbolic Miss Donnellv's
own work. This, we are sure. the au-
thor never intended. yet, taken as
whole, it will bear this Interpretation.
Here are "marvels of sculpture" and
'fower and fruit, and trailing vine"
while of
pure Madonnas and saints at PRAYER
With reverent heads and flowing hair"