Yet, the poet is too modest in his opening lay, for _all_ are beautiful:
'And some might say, 'Those ruder songs Had freshness which the new have lost; To spring the opening leaf belongs, The chestnut burs await the frost.'
'When those I wrote my locks were brown; When these I write--ah! well-a-day! The autumn thistle's silvery down Is not the purple bloom of May.'
We at least find no frost, no benumbing influence manifested anywhere. We love the old favorites because they were favorites of old. The younger reader, who has only of late months learned the 'Chambered Nautilus,' 'The Deacon's Masterpiece,' or 'Parson Turrel's Legacy,' will, thirty years hence, recall the sweet flavor of their first taste, even as we recall the latter years of the blessed rosy decade of the eighteen hundred and thirties, and, with them, how they were made leafy and odorant and golden by 'The Katydid Song'--by 'The Dilemma'--by 'L'Imanuel;' or how they were be-merried by the 'Dorchester Giant'--'The Oysterman'--the--but the book hath its table of contents!
We believe, honestly and earnestly, that the blue and gold, 'dorézure,' volume before us is the most agreeable, readable, and spirited book of poetry ever written by an American--it is not worth while to sail into the cloudy regions of antique or Old World comparison--and that it would be impossible to select anything in print of the same market value which would be so acceptable as a gift to so great a number of persons. We trust, by the way, that this hint will not be lost on all gentlemen or ladies who play at philop[oe]na, or who are desirous of displaying refined taste at no great expense on birthday and Christmas occasions. And we would beg our reader, for his own sake, not to rely on the fact that he has read many of these lyrics in bygone years, as an excuse for not providing himself with the new edition. We assure him that he can have no idea how much better and fresher and fairer they all seem in company. Something, too, should be said of the excellent full-length, admirably engraved portrait of Dr. HOLMES, pre-facing the title--the best likeness of our poet extant, and one which, to use a familiar though somewhat famished phrase, 'is alone well worth the price of the volume.'