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In its class, I know of no nobler or more beautiful sonnet than
“Renouncement”; and I have so considered ever since the day I first
heard it, when Rossetti (who knew it by heart), repeating it to me,
added that it was one of the three finest sonnets ever written by
women.—WILLIAM SHARP.
The last verse of that perfectly heavenly “Letter from a Girl to Her Own
Old Age,” the whole of “San Lorenzo’s Mother,” and the end of the sonnet
“To a Daisy” are the finest things I have yet seen or felt in modern
verse.—JOHN RUSKIN.
The footfalls of her muse waken not sounds, but silences. We lift a
feather from the marsh and say: “This way went a heron.”... It is
poetry, the spiritual voice of which will become audible when the “high
noises” of to-day have followed the feet that made them.—FRANCIS
THOMPSON.
* * * * *
With an exquisite singleness of genius she stands apart, and escapes the
categories. The more you live with these pages the more will you be
persuaded that they contain in unusual proportion the stuff of
immortality.—J. L. GARVIN.
She was the saint of our poetry. Therefore, she has no counterpart among
English poets.... She etherealised love and spiritualised passion and
humanised theology.—JAMES DOUGLAS.
It is the peculiar characteristic of Mrs. Meynell’s poetry that it is
itself creative. Its grace and beauty are the flower, not only of her
life, but of her contemplation of life. Her very daydreams are lit with
the light of day. Her feelings spring from her mind, her thoughts from
her heart. There is room in them for a wit that is the weapon of the
rarest tenderness.—_The Times._