There is nothing rude, we trust, in wondering aloud how many readers will know quite off-hand, without glancing lower down, who wrote this exquisite little poem, though scarcely any one will read it without a sob, and none will ever forget it:--
"My little son, who looked from thoughtful eyes, And moved and spoke in quiet grown-up wise, Having my law the seventh time disobey'd, I struck him and dismiss'd With hard words and unkiss'd, His mother, who was patient, being dead. Then, fearing lest his grief should hinder sleep, I visited his bed, But found him slumbering deep, With darkened eyelids, and their lashes yet From his late sobbing wet. And I, with moan, Kissing away his tears, left others of my own; For, on a table drawn beside his head, He had put, within his reach, A box of counters and a red-veined stone, A piece of glass abraded by the beach, And six or seven shells, A bottle with bluebells, And two French copper coins ranged there with careful art, To comfort his sad heart. So, when that night I pray'd To God, I wept and said: Ah, when at last we lie with trancèd breath, Not vexing Thee in death, And Thou rememberest of what toys We made our joys, How weakly understood Thy great commanded good, Then, fatherly not less Than I whom Thou hast moulded from the clay, Thou'lt leave Thy wrath and say, 'I will be sorry for their childishness.'"
Only we hope the number of those who can readily assign the poem to its author is after all, considerable: for it would be an ill omen if "The Angel in the House," "Faithful for Ever," the "Unknown Eros," and their companion poems did not find a fairly large, as well as a choice public. "The Unknown Eros, and other Odes," was published in 1877. Though it contained the little poem we have just quoted, and a few others of the most pellucid simplicity and the most homely sweetness, these were found in the company of "odes" in which the theme was as high-strung as the title, and a few in which the author's peculiarities were stretched to the utmost. On the whole that volume could hardly be supposed to appeal to any but a few. Several years ago, there was a very cheap edition of "Tamerton Church Tower," and most of the other poems (including the "Angel in the House"), and we should conjecture that it sold well--but it is now out of print, we are told. We have now, published by Messrs. George Bell & Sons, a selection from Mr. Patmore's poems, made by Mr. Richard Garnett (himself a poet) and entitled _Florilegium Amantis_. It makes 230 pages in a very handy little volume, and contains some of the most exquisite things Mr. Patmore has printed; along with a few that are new to us. We are not sure that we miss many of the very best (or best-loved) pieces; but judging, as we are at the moment compelled to do, from the earlier editions of the poems, we fancy there has been some "cooking,"--the sort of thing which an affectionate reader who gets his poet by heart always resents a little. The "Wedding Sermon," as we have it here, looks like an extension of Dean Churchill's letter to Frederick in "Faithful for Ever"--though we note some changes in the old familiar lines. Some very charming touches are omitted in "The Rosy Bosom'd Hours;" but we are not surprised, for we had them struck out once by an editor! The first four lines, about the curtained and locked "coupé" in the train, were, we presume, looked upon as sure to set the hogs snorting over any such touch as "the isthmus of your waist." Some portions of "The Victories of Love" seem to have been worked into "Amelia." The piece entitled "Alexander and Lycon" does not strike us as being good enough for its company. But certainly we know of no such "lover's garland" as this, and do not well see how there can be such another. This must not be taken to imply that Mr. Patmore will seem to every thoughtful reader consistent in his presentation of the ethics of his topic. For example, Dean Churchill's Sermon will not hang together with Mrs. Graham's beautiful letter to Frederick upon the difficulties of married life.