The request of the author that I should write a few words of
preface to this collection of poems must be my excuse for obtruding
myself upon the reader. Having frequently had the pleasure as
editor of _The Canadian Monthly_, of introducing many of Mrs.
MacLean's poems to lovers of verse in the Dominion it was thought
not unfitting that I should act as foster father to the collection
of them here made and to bespeak for the volume at the hands at
least of all Canadians the appreciative and kindly reception due to a
Child of the first winds and suns of a nation.
Accepting the task assigned to me the more readily as I discern the
high and sustained excellence of the collection as a whole let me
ask that the volume be received with interest as a further and most
meritorious contribution to the poetical literature of our young
country (the least that can be said of the work), and with sympathy
for the intellectual and moral aspirations that have called it into
being.
There is truth, doubtless, in the remark, that we are enriched less
by what we have than by what we hope to have. As the poetic art in
Canada has had little of an appreciable past, it may therefore be
thought that the songs that are to catch and retain the ear of the
nation lie still in the future, and are as yet unsung. Doubtless
the chords have yet to be struck that are to give to Canada the
songs of her loftiest genius; but he would be an ill friend of the
country's literature who would slight the achievements of the
present in reaching solely after what, it is hoped, the coming time
will bring.
But whatever of lyrical treasure the future may enshrine in
Canadian literature, and however deserving may be the claims of the
volumes of verse that have already appeared from the native press,
I am bold to claim for these productions of Mrs. MacLean's muse a
high place in the national collection and a warm corner in the
national heart.
To discern the merit of a poem is proverbially easier than to say
how and in what manner it is manifested. In a collection the task
of appraisement is not so difficult. Lord Houghton has said: "There
is in truth no critic of poetry but the man who enjoys it, and the
amount of gratification felt is the only just measure of
criticism." By this test the present volume will, in the main, be
judged. Still, there are characteristics of the author's work which
I may be permitted to point out. In Mrs. MacLean's volume what
quickly strikes one is not only the fact that the poems are all of
a high order of merit, but that a large measure of art and instinct
enters into the composition of each of them. As readily will it be
recognized that they are the product of a cultivated intellect, a
bright fancy, and a feeling heart. A rich spiritual life breathes
throughout the work, and there are occasional manifestations of
fervid impulse and ardent feeling. Yet there is no straining of
expression in the poems nor is there any loose fluency of thought.
Throughout there is sustained elevation and lofty purpose. Her
least work, moreover, is worthy of her, because it is always honest
work. With a quiet simplicity of style there is at the same time a
fine command of language and an earnest beauty of thought. The
grace and melody of the versification, indeed, few readers will
fail to appreciate. Occasionally there are echoes of other
poets--Jean Ingelow and Mrs. Barrett Browning, in the more
subjective pieces, being oftenest suggested. But there is a voice
as well as an echo--the voice of a poet in her own right. In an age
so bustling and heedless as this, it were well sometimes to stop
and listen to the voice In its fine spiritualizations we shall at
least be soothed and may be bettered.
But I need not dwell on the vocation of poetry or on the excellence
of the poems here introduced. The one is well known to the reader,
the other may soon be. Happily there is promise that Canada will
ere long be rich in her poets. They stand in the vanguard of the
country's benefactors, and so should be cherished and encouraged.
Of late our serial literature has given us more than blossomings.
The present volume enshrines some of the maturer fruit. May it be
its mission to nourish the poetic sentiment among us. May it do
more to nourish in some degree the "heart of the nation", and, in
the range of its influence, that of humanity.
CANADIAN MONTHLY OFFICE,
Toronto, December, 1880