Among the twelve hundred poems which have emanated from my too prolific
pen there are some forty or fifty which treat entirely of that emotion
which has been denominated "the grand passion"--love. A few of those are
of an extremely fiery character.
When I issued my collection known as "Maurine, and Other Poems," I
purposely omitted all save two or three of these. I had been frequently
accused of writing only sentimental verses; and I took pleasure and
pride in presenting to the public a volume which contained more than one
hundred poems upon other than sentimental topics. But no sooner was the
book published than letters of regret came to me from friends and
strangers, and from all quarters of the globe, asking why this or that
love poem had been omitted. These regrets were repeated to me by so many
people that I decided to collect and issue these poems in a small volume
to be called "Poems of Passion." By the word "Passion" I meant the
"grand passion" of love. To those who take exception to the title of the
book I would suggest an early reference to Webster's definitions of the
word.
Since this volume has caused so much agitation throughout the entire
country, and even sent a tremor across the Atlantic into the Old World,
I beg leave to make a few statements concerning some of the poems.
The excitement of mingled horror and amaze seems to center upon four
poems, namely: "Delilah," "Ad Finem," "Conversion," and "Communism."
"Delilah" was written and first published in 1877. I had been reading
history, and became stirred by the power of such women as Aspasia and
Cleopatra over such grand men as Antony, Socrates, and Pericles. Under
the influence of this feeling I dashed off "Delilah," which I meant to
be an expression of the powerful fascination of such a woman upon the
memory of a man, even as he neared the hour of death. If the poem is
immoral, then the history which inspired it is immoral. I consider it my
finest effort.
"Ad Finem" was written in 1878. I think there are few women of strong
character and affections who cannot, from either experience or
observation, understand the violent intensity of regret and despair
which sometimes takes possession of the human heart after the loss by
death, fate, or the force of circumstances, of some one very dear.
In "Ad Finem" I intended to give voice to this very common experience of
almost every heart. Many noble women have since told me that the poem
was true to life. It is not, as many people have wilfully or stupidly
construed it, a bit of poetical advice to womankind to "barter the joys
of Paradise" for "just one kiss." It is simply an illustration of a
moment of turbulent anguish and vehement despair, such moments of
unreasoning and overwhelming sorrow as the most moral people may
experience during a lifetime.
In "Communism" I endeavored to use a new simile in illustrating that
somewhat hackneyed theme of the supremacy of Love over Reason; and
simply to carry out my idea I represented the violent uprising of the
Communist emotions against King Reason.
"Conversion" was suggested to me by the remark of a gentleman friend. In
speaking to me of the woman he loved, he said: "I have always been a
skeptic regarding the existence of heaven, but I am so much happier in
my love for this woman than I ever supposed it possible for me to be on
earth that I begin to believe that the tales of heavenly raptures may be
true."
I embodied his idea in the poem which has brought, with a few others, so
much censure and criticism upon this volume, although it contains nearly
seventy-five other selections quite irreproachable in character, however
faulty they may be in construction.
It is impossible to pursue a successful literary career and follow the
advice of all one's "best friends." I have received severe censure from
my orthodox friends for writing liberal verses. My liberal friends
condemn my devout and religious poems as "aiding superstition." My early
temperance verses were pronounced "fanatical trash" by others.
With all due thanks and appreciation for the kind motives which interest
so many dear friends in my career, I yet feel compelled to follow the
light which my own intellect and judgment cast upon my way, rather than
any one of the many conflicting rays which other minds would lend me.