The National tribune., 1907-12-19

from which he sprang. Travel had no
charms for him, and tho repeatedly in
vited by English friends and warm ad
mirers to visit that country, he could
not be prevailed upon to do so. He
was unlike any other American poet in
this respect, and was very provincial
naturally, but thru his very loyalty to
his native locality achieved a simple
directness and sincerity of purpose and
result which he could never have ac-
quired had he been Whittier the trav-
eled, sophisticated man of the world.
Whittier was true poet. His song
is clearer, truer, purer, sweeter than
that of any other American singer. His
poetry is always simple, always perfect
iy evident as to mis- meaning, and his
subjects are usually taken from the
ordinary phases of human life. He has
been compared to Burns in this respect,
and there is no doubt but that he was
Influenced by the Scotch poet, whom
he loved better than any other. The
simple austerity Of his life, it's utter
freedom from the distractions of the
mad world, the beautiful serenity and
purity of his private character, all
tended to strengthen the sweetness and
trueness of his tone, and made him the
only remarkable American singer the
country has ever produced. Who can
say that his note would have been as
true had the conditions of his life not
been just what they were?
While Whittier resembled Burns in
his sweetness and simplicity and in a
very human sympathy and comprehen-
sion, he differed from him in many
striking particulars "Bobbie' Burns
was born with that fatal facility for
making himself attractive to the fair
sex, which has been the undoing of SO
many, while Whittier had but one love
IN, \ nj hn cd n
him to the grave. OF his Mary he
sings as sweetly as did Burns of his,
and much more convincingly, since the
Scotch poet, loving not wisely but too
well and far too many, inspires the sus-
picion that his feeling was never very
deep or strong for any one of his fair
enslavers. What could be sweeter than
these lines of Whittier written to his
Mary after years of separation?
Il hear again thy low replies,
l feel thy arm within my own,
And timidly again uprise
The fringed lids of hazel eyes,
With soft brown tresses overblown.
All, memories of sweet Summer ewes,
OF moonlit wave and willowy way,
OF stars and flowers and dewy leaves,
And smiles and tones more dear than
they!"
Whittier also differed from Burns in
not having trace of social inferiority
or desire to rise in the world" which
| made the latter poet so dissatisfied with
his position in life. Whittier was very
modest, simple and plain, but he was
| no peasant His soul was strong and
| dignifed, and he would not have chang
| ed lots with a King. OF his own work
he had a very humble opinion, and If
he is to be taken at his word, had no
rti hilton hn q nnnt
| ferring, as he said, to leave the MEM
ory of a Howard, a Wilberforce and
Clarkson than the undying fame of
| Byron" No other American poet has
| displayed SO intimate a knowledge with
| the subtle lines of Natures face as he,
and his pictures of New England land
scapes possess q dreamy grace beside
which Longfellow or Lowell appear
studied, tame and bookish. Take, for
instance, these three different descrip-
| tions of Autumn by the three poets.
What could be simpler. yet make
| clearer, more charming picture than
these lines of Whittier?
| Thru n thin, dry mist, that morning,
| the sun rose broad and red,
At first a rayless disc of fire, he bright
| ened as he sped;
Yet even his noontde glory fell chas-
| tened and subdued
On the cornfields and the orchards, and
softly pictured wood.
"And all that quiet afternoon, slow
sloping to the night,
He wove with golden shuttle the haze
with yellow light;
Slanting thru the painted beeches, he
| glorified the hill,
And beneath it pond and meadow lay
brighter, greener still"
How much less free is the swing of
| ILongfellow's verse:
There is a beautiful spirit breathing
now
It's mellow richness on the clustered
trees,
And, from beaker full of richest dyes,
Pouring new glory on the Autumn
woods"