Western Daily Press, 15 October 1881, p. 6
The Rev. H. D. Rawnsley is favourably known to Bristol readers for his poetical compositions, some of which are no doubt well remembered as good examples of felicitous rhythm, combined with that poetic appreciation which invests even common subjects with real interest. Alexander Smith tells us that murky clouds become “a wreathed splendour in the declining sun,” and it is the mission of successful writers of poetry to invest the ordinary landscape with the special charm that is associated with glowing light. Mr. Rawnsley has found at the English lakes his themes for the one hundred and twenty sonnets in this pleasant volume. He reminds us in a prefatory note of James Spedding’s remark that sonnets to be appreciated should be read one by one, with intervals between long enough to permit the impression of each to get out of the other’s way, but this advice, good as it may be, is not generally followed. The writers of sonnets are a caste by themselves—for when we have named Milton, Drummond of Hawthornden, and Wordsworth, and a few others—including perhaps Spenser and Shakspere—we have almost exhausted the sonneteers who stand in the front rank. In many of Mr. Rawnsley’s sonnets there is a freshness which seems to take us into the presence of the veritable atmosphere of the lakes, and they are marked by great variety as well as a certain melodiousness which will cause them to be read. We make one extract:--
Windermere—Autumn
Blue as the waves upon the Midland seas,
The first has rimmed thy shaggy banks with gold,
And—messenger of coming change—the cold
From Troutbeck blown, and over Fairfield’s knees,
Sweeps with a touch of winter; and the trees—
Tall fires about the bluffs and headlands bold—
Burn through the woods in colours manifold,
To fall in ashes at the earliest breeze.
These are the gifts of Autumn—azure floods
And amber reeds, and gold among the woods:
But I would give this colour, all this store,
For one bird-voice along thy silent shore—
Would welcome utter leaflessness—to hear
The cuckoo’s voice come over Windermere.
London Daly News, 22 December 1881, p. 3
[The Sonnets] . . . are modest and graceful echoes of the large utterance of Wordsworth. Higher praise than this they do not ask for, but it is well deserved.
