enry Vaughan, or our own
Cowper; for, with all our admiration of the searching, fearless
speculation, the wonderful power of speaking clearly upon dark and all
but unspeakable subjects, the rich outcome of 'thoughts that wander
through eternity,' which increases every time we take up that wonderful
little book, we confess we were surprised at the kind and the amount of
true poetic _vis_ in these poems, from the same fine and strong hand.
There is a personality and immediateness, a sort of sacredness and
privacy, as if they were overheard rather than read, which gives to these
remarkable productions a charm and a flavor all their own. With no
effort, no consciousness of any end but that of uttering the inmost
thoughts and desires of the heart, they flow out as clear, as living, as
gladdening as the wayside well, coming from out the darkness of the
central depths, filtered into purity by time and travel. The waters are
copious, sometimes to overflowing; but they are always limpid and
unforced, singing their own quiet tune, not saddening, though sometimes
sad, and their darkness not that of obscurity, but of depth, like that of
the deep sea.

"This is not a book to criticise or speak about, and we give no extracts
from the longer, and in this case, we think, the better poems. In
reading this Cardiphonia set to music, we have been often reminded, not
only of Herbert and Vaughan, but of Keble,--a likeness of the spirit, not
of the letter; for if there is any one poet who has given a bent to her
mind, it is Wordsworth,--the greatest of all our century's poets, both in
himself and in his power of making poets."

In the belief that whoever peruses the following pages will be
sufficiently interested in their author to be induced to turn back and
read over again, with renewed pleasure, extracts from her metrical
writings, I copy from the volume so warmly commended a few brief pieces
and extracts from the longer poems.

Here are three sonnets, each a sermon in itself:--

ASCENDING.

They who from mountain-peaks have gazed upon
The wide, illimitable heavens have said,
That, still receding as they climbed, outspread,
The blue vault deepens over them, and, one
By one drawn further back, each starry sun
Shoots down a feebler splendor overhead
So, Saviour, as our mounting spirits, led
Along Faith's living way to Thee, have won
A nearer access