In his book Post-Victorian Poetry, Herbert Palmer makes two observations on the subject of the poetry of Everest Lewin. After admitting that her contribution to the verse covered in his tome is notable slender, he then goes on to single out Lewin’s poem titled simply “Sonnet” as “the most exciting and moving sonnet of this century.” If this is an opinion shared by a multitude of other critics, scholars, academics or editors, it is one couched in the same mystery which characterizes everything else about Lewin.
Even the poet’s gender is up for grabs among those writing of her work today. It is far form unusual when one does come across analysis of Lewin’s poetry to find references to “his” and “him.” Which is not that surprising considering the genderless attribution to her unusual first name. One of the most surprising things to learn about Lewin may be the Sir Edmund Hillary did not reach the summit of the world’s highest mountain until many decades after the poet’s birth, so the worldwide celebration of that achievement could not account for the idiosyncratic naming. Unfortunately, Lewin’s name is one of the most idiosyncratic things about her, far surpassing any revolutionary advancements in crafting verse that can be found in her limited body of work.
Palmer does seem to have been cavalierly besotted with “Sonnet” relative to its literary merits. While far from a bad poem, it must be admitted that it is equally equidistant from being regarded as the best example of the sonnet form to that point in the century. While one may be appropriately impressed that Lewin exploits the sonnet’s historical reference point as “the” poetic form for expressing romantic love to engage in a little subversion about how love is sometimes kind of stalky and creepy and complicated, this portrait is not in itself such a rebellious concept as to earn the poet the higher honor awarded it by Palmer. It is a very good example of a modern sonnet, but hardly the epitome of such.
The same is true of “Sonnet: I Did Not See” which engages the form to literally create a heartbreaking analysis of regret about not taking the time to see the “red rose-petal shed.” The speaker is not concerned with sending a message of romance to a lover; this is a love poem that ends on the wistful imagery of not realizing the last passionate kiss shared with a former lover was actually the last kiss.
As far as can be gleaned from the limited information available in the public domain regarding the work (or much of anything else) about Everest Lewin, though many of her poems were republished in textbooks and anthologies, she herself published just one collection. The bulk of that body of work points to a typical Victorian poet taking on the subject of love in all its many varieties. Lewin’s preference for the sonnet form speaks volumes about the subject which she was most simulated to put into poet form. Although focusing on love poetry, this is not to be confused with writing the equivalent of Hallmark greeting card verse. Lewin does stand out form many other Victorian poets on the basis of writing love poetry that often presents a sad or dark picture of romance. Her poems span the gamut from a first-person narrative about a woman looking her best and trying her hardest and still being ignored by the male object of her gaze to the conceptualization of love as being a kind of insanity that obstructs people from perhaps realizing a more noble purpose or obsession.
Ultimately, the melting away of Lewin from routinely being included in anthologies to being unknown and forgotten rests mostly upon the fact that she wrote very good poetry, but not especially inventive or revolutionary poetry. She didn’t pursue fame or make attempts at self-marketing and remained content to live a life of privilege as a happily wedded wife. Or, judging from her body of work, perhaps no so much.
