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More Skyrocket

More Skyrocket.—

Mr. "Walt. Whitman" has just published in the "Saturday Press" another of the erratic emanations characteristic of the afflatus of his muse. It is entitled "A Child's Reminiscence," and is a marvel in the way of the gross and the grotesque. Some of the lines go hopping along, like chirping little birds, on two feet, and some creep slowly by, like the centipede insect, on a hundred, and some roll on, Heaven only knows how, like the tumble-bug, as if bent only on gathering feculence—and the latter entirely succeed. We should like to quote the whole poem, but modesty forbids; we give, verbatim, however, about half the twenty-first canto, which may serve as an expressive auto-criticism upon the entire production: XXI. "But soft ! Sink low—soft ! Soft !"

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