Anthology Of Magazine Verse For 1921 And Year Book Of American Poetry

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ANTHOLOGY
OF

MAGAZINE VERSE

FOR 1921

ANTHOLOGY

OF

MAGAZINE VERSE

FOR 1921

AND YEAR BOOK OF
AMERICAN POETRY

EDITED BY
WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE

BOSTON

SMALL,, MAYNARI> & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1921, by The Boston Transcript Company

ComiGET, 1921

BY SMALL, MAYNARD AND COMPANY
(INCOEPOHATZD)

Printed in the United States of America

TO
MY FRIEND

ARTHUR H. HAYWARD

A 2STEW ENGLANDES AND

IOTEE OF HEB PERFECTIONS

IN

CONTENTS

PAGE
INTRODUCTION IX

ACKNOWIJIDGMENTS - xill

ANTHOLOGY OP POEMS 6

THE YEARBOOK OF AMERICAN POETRT 209

OF POETS AND POEMS PUBUCSHED IN AMERICAN

AUGUST, 1920- JULY, 1921 . 211

ARTICLES AND REVIEWS or POETS AND POETB.T PUB-
LJSHED DURING 1920-1921 .... . . 256

VOLUMES OF POEMS PUBLISHED DUKJNG 1920-1921 . . 271

A SEUECT LIST OF BOOKS ABOUT POETS AND POETHY . 281

INDEX OF FIBST LINES 286

INTRODUCTION

REFLECTIONS:

What makes an American poetry is a question that
has never been and can never be solved by criticism.
It is time that we repudiate the concept of what is
American that was held, we will say, about the middle
of the last century before the great flood of emigra-
tion from Europe began or we must set up positively
a new concept of that word. The idea of Americanism,
certainly during and especially since the end of the
World War, has been in solution. The idea of
Americanism is, in face of much contrary emphasis, a
matter of psychology rather than political. The sug-
gestion of the difference here vaguely remarked is too
complicated to be pursued, and is referred to merely
to bring over into the domain of poetry some funda-
mental inquiries regarding the character of "American
poetry."

I suppose that any art may be considered American
which conforms in expression to the ideals of the
American people. But who are the American people
who create or preserve these ideals? It must be
admitted that the descendents of the original founders
of the Nation are at present in a numerical minority.
Do their ideals prevail? Or have their ideals been
modified by the majority who are the descendents of
immigrants of the lasb two or three generations? The
great political and social effort during the last few
years has been to inoculate the great non-Saxon strain
with the ideal of the founders of the Nation who are
represented to-day by the minority population. After
all this is the hue and cry of Americanism. A hue and'
cry losing its vigor against the persistent modification
of American institutions by the new-comers and their

ix

descendents. It is not intellect that has brought this
about; less has it been due to education; it has been
due to character and character is the expression of
habits and ideas which cannot be changed in the brief
period of a few generations.

To get at the character of an American Poetry then,
we must understand these forces which have been at
work upon our national experiences. It is interesting
in light of what I have said to quote this passage from
a letter which I received from an interested reader of
these anthologies. "In the 1920 Anthology/' it runs,
"you speak of we Americans as being without a 'tap-
root* in literature. I know we are young, yet it seems
to me that if the real hundred per-cent American
writers were encouraged the 'root* would respond by a
greater depth of growth and in time we would have an
American literature, and I am going to suggest that
you in the 1921 Anthology select writers as nearly
American as possible in name and in harmony with our
country make this issue American in every way
descendents of the New England and New York and
Pennsylvania and Virginia settlers.

"I have all the books you have compiled and it seems
to me there are more new names of people who are
not Americans, than Americans, and I am so good an
American that I want us to have the first place in our
literature. I do not like the melting-pot process we
really have writers who have ability and though not
perfect as to literary finish, they write of things as
they hear and see them and because it is the land they
love not for effect. I hope you will feel I do not
mean this in criticism but as a real deeply felt plea for
our people, and our America and I hope you will select
from more magazines and less of the writings of the
few as in especially 1919 and 1920 books."

The sentiment expressed in this amounts to a con-
viction though strongly and surreptitiously held is
being over-borne by the changing conceptions of the

the light of psychological truth upon the literary
ideals of Americanism. It is interesting to throw
conflict that is waging around this ideal. Gustave Le
Bon remarks in his latest book that "If it is difficult
to understand the mentality of a people, this is because
its literary, artistic and scientific productions, which
reveal its intelligence, do not by any means interpret
its character. Now, a man's behavior depends upon
his character not upon his intellect, and there is no
parallelism between these two regions of personality."
It is the superficial belief of some critics that
"American" poetry has its ideal and embodiment in
Walt Whitman. It has been impossible for them to
distinguish the fact that Whitman was only a rebel in
form and not in ideas and substance. His radicalism
consisted in breaking up forms merely as a chemical
process to hold and shape the new solutions of his
ideas of American democracy. This process was in
keeping with the evolutionary tradition of the Saxon
peoples. Whitman was not then a revolutionist, as so
many of his non-Saxon disciples of to-day believe. In
our current art it is very easily determined by name
those poebs whose art express evolutionary principles
of substance and ideas and those who express revolu-
tionary social doctrines. The question of form scarce-
ly matters ; for though Masters, Amy Lowell, Vachel
Lindsay, John Gould Fletcher, John Hall Wheelock,
and H. D., to name a few of the best, are often radical
in form, in substance they carry on the evolutionary
principle of the Saxon traditions. Add Frost, Robin-
son and Aiken, to their names and you get the Saxon
continuity of poetic spirit". How much or how little
you may like their themes or their qualities of vision,
these poets are constructive. Now, the revolutionists
tumble out of the category of this Saxon nomencla-
ture. Sandburg, Oppenheim, Untermeyer, Giovan-
nitti, Rosenf eld, and the increasing number of Russian

names that are invading the table of contents and title
pages.

I come to no conclusion as to what is to-day, or
what may be to-morrow, American poetry. It may or
may not follow the crystallisation of "an American
language/* These reflections, I hope, serve merely to
call some attention to the fact that there is an influence
more mystical than the average critic gives credit for
being which is reshaping the foundation of our poetic
ideals and visions. In the art of poetry as well as in
our national temper, there is a psychologic conflict
taking place which may be revealed in the words of
Gustave Le Bon when he says that "in addition to the
shifting elements of the individual character there are
extremely stable ancestral elements established by the
past. Strong enough to limit the oscillations of per-
sonality, they immediately establish national unity in
times of crisis."

W. S. B.

Arlington Heights
Massachusetts

xii

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To the American poets and to the editors and
proprietors of the magazines from which I have
selected the poems included in the Anthology, I wish
to express my obligation for the courteous permissions
given to make use of copyright material in the prepa-
ration of this volume.

I wish, alsOj to thank the Boston Transcript Com-
pany for permission to use material which appeared
in my annual review of American poetry in the col-
umns of The Evening Transcript.

To the following publishers I am indebted for the
privilege of using the poems named from the volumes
in which they have been included,, and which have
been published before the appearance of this An-
thology :

The Macmillan Company: "The Long Race/'
"Vain Gratuities/* "Lost Anchors/* "Monadnock
Through the Trees/* in Collected Poems by Edwin
Arnold Robinson ; and "The Dark Cup/' in Flame and
Shadow by Sara Teasdale.

Houghton, Mifflin Company: "Purchased/' in
Cobble Stones and Clouds by Hortense Flexner.

B. W. Huebsch: "Altitude/' "After Storm/'
"Cactus Seed/' in Sun-up by Lola Ridge.

The Four Seas Company: "The Vanished Years/*
in Willow-Pollen by Jeanette Marks.

TO ONE WHO ASKS

Curious you should not see my feet are weary

Weary of the way you see so fair

As wondering you look along each silver path witk

question
Why I will not tread.

Curious you should not see my eyes are weary,
Weary of the sorrow and the passion they have seen;
Asking now to close, the last kiss given,
The last word said.

Curious you should not see my hands are weary,
Weary with' their ceaseless fluttering round' little

things ;

Concerned no longer with caresses nor with loving,
Still and uncomforted.

Your young desire would take away my sorrow,
Do you not see I have but ashes for you?
I would not lay upon your eager breast
My weary head.

Your feet are hurrying, your soul is hungering
You of the intent eyes, the questing will.
Why do you ask my two tired, empty hands
To give you bread?

You will not see my very soul is weary
I think it died long, long ago, or fled.
Would you ask caresses from a shadow-woman
Kisses from the dead?

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Mary Aldi*

6

RAIN

I never knew how words were vain

Until I strove to say
The thoughts that fell like the grey rain

Upon my heart today.

The April rain falls on the earth,
That waits a while for words,

And then becomes articulate
In buds and bees and birds.

The thoughts that rain upon my heart

Bring nothing fair to birth ;
Oh God, I kneel before the art,

Of this great lyrist, earth*

Contemporary Verse Kenneth Slade Ailing

ON THE PASSING OF THE LAST FIRE
HORSE FROM MANHATTAN ISLAND

I remember the cleared streets, the strange suspense

As if a thunder-storm were under way \
Magnificently furious, hurrying thence,

The fire-eyed horses racing to the fray ;
Out of old Homer where the heroes are,

Beating upon the whirlwind thunderous hoofs,
Wild horses and plumed Aj ax in his car :

Oh, in those days we still possest the proofs
Men battled shouting by the gates of Troy,

With shields of triple brass and spears of flame.
With what distended nostrils, what fierce joy,

What ring on stone and steel, those horses came.
Like horses of gods that whirl to the dawn's burning,

They came, and they are gone, and unreturning.

The New York Evening Post Kenneth Slade Ailing

7

ECSTASY

I could never be properly dead,

For even alone in my grave,
These songs would go on in my head,

And May in my veins would rave.

No grief or sorrow or pain

Could bind me utterly down ;
I should go shout with the rain,

And burst, with June, through the town.

No ancient hurt of the stars,

That scarred my heart at its birth,

Could ever make silent in me,

The songs that I sing for the earth.

Kenneth Slade Ailing
The Midland, A Magazine of the Middle West

ST. AGNES 9 MORNING

Between the dawn and the sun's rising

She could not sleep, so the blood stirred in her;

She could not, and in the cold morning

Woke with the white curtains' stir.

Between the dawn and the river's flaming
She folded a curtain toward the sea,
And, bending, lifted silks together
In the cold light, dubiously.

In the cold air, pulsing the curtain,
She lifted silks; and let them fall.
In the wind she bent above them
Hearing their rustling musical,

8

Between the dawn and silver morning
She could not sleep, so the blood dinned
With the river's silver and the sea's silence
And the wind.

The New Republic Maxwell Anderson

EMPTYING ASHES

The leaves blow like ghosts through the blur of

lamplight

And gather in the wind at the foot of the wall ;
Bare trees breathe in the wind with silverly singing;
Save for the -street lamps flinging
Long level rays there are no stars seen at all.

And no man goes or comes ; the houses are silent ;
They have all withdrawn within from the cold rain,
Pulled down the blinds, and drawn up chairs to the

fire,

Each to his own desire,
Knowing the wind only as winter wind again.

Winter, a furnace to tend, ashes to empty,

A banking of many fires, the evenings longer

While the land is turned to the stars, the sea to the

sun;

And mile by mile, one by one,
The rivers pause; and the tug of storms is stronger.

At the base of the wall the leaves lift in the wind's

whirl ;

The clouds pour over the sky; behind them rides
Somewhere a quiet moon, swift and dark,
Cutting its changeless arc,
Calling the tides we know, called bv unknown tides.

9

I could step out on the rain, leave this darkness.
Blaze a path through the cool deserts of time,
Descend from sun to sun, from ledge to ledge,
Slip out beyond the edge,
And lose the earth like a forgotten crime.

I could turn within, follow curious shadows
Through the interminably opening doors,
Finding a thousand griefs, old scents and laughter,
Hung, cob-web like to rafters,

And secret springs, blank corridors, and haunted
floors.

The leaves blow like ghosts through the blur of lamp-
light.

And gather in the wind at the foot of a wall;
Well, I am weary, these days seem dusty, lonely,
So much distance only,
And I empty the ashes, watching the leaves, after all.

The New Republic Maxwell Anderson

RHAPSODY

As when trees are shrouded in December,
Men recall the perfumes of the flower-time ;
So we sing a life we half remember:
How we heard in some primeval shower-time
Liquid song of rain upon blue rivers;
Dreamed on isles, in windless oceans planted,
Where a dim-green twilight, bird enchanted,
Under domes of drooping leafage quivers;
How we climbed on many a hidden planet
Eagle heights stirred by a starry breeze;
Watched by coffined kings in tombs of granite,
Where the darkness hangs like boughs of trees,
Glimpsing in the reddening light of torches

10

Ghosts of somber vaults and looming porches,
Cyclopean faces, giant knees;
How we anchored in a violet haven,
Seeking under light of unknown stars
Mountains paler than the moonlight, graven
Into shapes of pinnacles and scars ;
Where our boat set all the lilies swinging,
Sailed up rivers hushed and leafy-arbored,
And, in caves of hanging blossom harbored,
Heard the sound of an immortal singing.

As when breathed upon, the ashen ember

Blossoms into fire again and fades,

So bright Junes flame up through our December,

And at random whiles we half remember

Sudden gusts of an immortal singing,

Ancient visions of remote crusades.

The Century Magazine Martin Armstrong

FEMININE TALK

First Woman. Do you share the present dread
Of being sentimental?
The world has flung its boutonniere
Into the mud, and steps upon it
With elaborate gestures !
Certain people do this neatly,
Using solemn words for consolation:
Others angrily stamp their feet,
Striving to prove their strength.

Second Woman. Sentimentality

Is the servant-girl of certain men
And the wife of others.
She scarcely ever flirts
With creative minds,

11

Striving also to become

Graceful and indiscreet.
First Woman. Sappho and Aristotle

Have wandered through the centuries,

Dressed in an occasional novelty

A little twist of outward form.

They have always been ashamed

To be caught in a friendly talk.
Second Woman. When emotion and the mind

Engage in deliberate conservation,

One hundred nightingales

And intellectuals find a common ground,

And curse the meeting of their slaves !
First Woman. The mind must only play

With polished relics of emotion,

And the heart must never lighten

Burdens of the -mind.
Second Woman. I desire to be

Irrelevant and voluble,

Leaving my terse disgust for a moment.

I have met an erudite poet.

With a northern hardness

Motionless beneath his youthful robes.

He shuns the quivering fluencies

Of emotion, and shifts his dominoes

Within a room of tortured angles.

But away from this creative room

He sells himself to the whims

Of his wife, a young virago

With a calculating nose.

Beneath the flagrant pose

Of his double life

Emotion and the mind

Look disconsolately at each otKer.
First Woman. Lyrical abandon

And mental cautiousness

Must not mingle to a magic

Glowing, yet deliberate!

Second Woman. Never spill your wine
Upon a page of mathematics.
Drink it decently
Within the usual tavern.

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Maxwell Bodenhem

PINE TREES

The pine trees patiently unstitch

The brightness of this afternoon,
But while they work their pungent thoughts

Are longing for the dulcet moon.

The pine trees only live at night
When moonlight brings them silver eyes ;

Throughout the day they stand like blind
Green beggar s^ uttering restless cries.

At night they listen to the words
Of winds from far-off mountain rims.

And feel the reckless grief that springs

From those who stand with prisoned limbs.

The Literary Review Maxwell Bodenheim

If. T. Evening Post

CARTOONS OF THE FRENCH REVO-
LUTION

L MlRABEAU

You must have shocked your father when you came,

Club-footed, pimpled. 'Twas for him as when

A gardener finds a crooked root to tend;

He feared the flower would stink and bring him shame.

He did not want your morals to be lame

At least. It was the same old thing again. . .

Revolt has always claimed the best in men

And so you cried, "God damn the family name I"

And yet how sad a thing it was for France. . . .
You spent just half your strength to make France

free

And half in j ail through women and the dance.
And at the cry, "To arms !" you did but see
A dearer challenge in a haughty glance,
Behind the throne the lips of Queen Marie.

II. THEROIG-NE DE MERICOURT
You taught more economics than a tome
Contains, you women marching on Versailles.
You were not there to save a world, or try.
Your theory was the simple monochrome
Of hunger, black as crusts you ate at home.
And either you or Louis had to die.
That simpler thinker only blinked his eye
Like Nero fiddling in the flames of Rome.

And you, Theroigne, there where none had grown,
Led forth a Reason : Women crying, "Bread/*
Plain women in the rain before a throne.
Assemblies talked, you knew not what they said*
You taught us there that hunger is the stone
We bear or hurl till we or kings fall dead.

The Measure Stirling Bowen

1*

MY GHOSTS

My house is filled with ghosts

Ghosts of all sorts that sing and dance,

And fill the halls with laughter gay,

And other ghosts that are content

To be philosophers,

And point the way to peace and happiness.

Grim ghosts are there,

Wan specters they of tragedy,

Despairing in their mien,

Compellers all of gloom,

Who fill me full of horror as they pass ;

The which, when grown too tense

With contemplation of their evil ways,

I turn away from, summoning

Some ghosts of lyric song to ease the strain,

And find serenity

The while he, smiling, sings to me.

The ghosts of all the famous folk of history

Are there:

Wise Solomon and Charlemagne

And Pericles and Plato; Socrates,

And all the singers of the glory that was Greece

And Rome;

Columbus, Cabot, and their crews,

And Ealeigh, brave pathfinders to our newer world;

Sad Louis, and Robespierre of greenish eyes,

The pallid Nemesis of kings;

And he who lost at Waterloo

Comes now and then, and back to glory stalks,

Rehearsing for my thrill the deeds of Lodf s bridge

And Austerlitz;

While Washington's own self strides nobler by,

Crowned with the greener bays

Of his unselfishness;

And Lincoln, heart of godlike mold,

Comes tauntingly to stir

My soul alternately to laughter and to tears.

15

The noblest thinkers of recorded time

They, too, come by,

And none too bent on more important things

To pause at my behest

And grant to me the ripened fruits

Of their vast cogitations.

And when my faith by some doubt is besieged,

The valiant hosts of followers of the light.

The saintly heroes of the word,

Responding to my call,

Troop in from out the past, and circling me about,

The torch of truth upraised,

Drive forth mine enemy, who never hath withstood

Its splendent flame.

And so the list runs on.

The ghosts of every age are there,

And at the moment of my need,

For cheer, for knowledge, or for sympathy,

They rise at summons and, dismissed, depart.

Not to return until again I call them forth

From off those bending shelves

Whereon,

Within the covers of my books,

They dwell, to bless me with their gifts

Of story and of song,

In payment for my reverent love of them.

The Century Magazine John Kendrlck Bangs

16

THE LORD SPEAKS

God said to the Puritan

As He stood on the bank of His river:

"I told you to swim to me;

You builded a bridge of stone

To bring back the Soul to the Giver.

Your timorous, dry-shod plan

Was well enough in its way,

But you wrestled and toiled alone,

And your work was heavier f ar,

And now you will have to stay

On the bank till you learn to play

Old and stiff as you are."

God said to the drowning Sinner :
"I told you to swim to me.
But you played and played in the stream,
And you stayed and stayed in the stream,
And you laughed at the ones who said
You might stay in the water too long.
And now you are cramped and cold,
And you will go down in the stream.
And then, fished out of the slime,
I must leave you to air and dry,
Wasting eternal Time
Hung on a thorn, to sigh
While measureless years go by."

God called to the Swimmer-with-Glee,

God called to the Laden-and- Weary,

"Swim to me, swim to me!

Dear,

I am a shady Tree

For those who rest from the River."

The Yale Review Karle Wilson Baker

17

BRIEF LIFE

Brief as the creaming waves that break and run
Back to the deep, as butterflies that flitter
From flower to flower, as icicles that glitter

Their keen defiance to the fatal sun;

Brief as from tiny breast of cinnamon

The bluebird's warble, or the swallow's twitter,
This life of ours. Though it be sweet or bitter,

*Tis but a wing-beat and the flight is done.

Yet on the lip the billow's windy froth
Tastes of the sea ; summer is in the call

Of bird, in airy motion of the moth.

There sparkles in that fragile crystal lance

The miracle of light. *Tis but a glance

And we are gone; yet the least life holds all.

The Yale Review Katharine Lee Bates

WINTER BURIAL

Earth, will you be kind to her?
I give her back . . .

Will your clumsy ricks and clay
Break her silk and pearl and ivory
To trash? . , .

... or shall I see a little creeping flusK
of first flowers along that slope
next Spring?

The North American Review Henry Bellamann

18

SAND HILLS

The world is spread with rough grained silk,
crumpled a little where the sky indents it
and cuts off the view.

The very old

long since tired of northern lights

and seas too jeweled

and snows too glittering,

tired, too, of men,

the very old gods come here

in the late evening

to sit quietly on the warm gray silk

and rest their eyes

with milky opal tints

and the smoky blue

flecked by the dim fire of giant stars.

TJie Measure Henry Bellamann

"JUNKETS," IMMORTAL*

"What has become of Junkets I know not. Z suppose
Queen Mab has eaten him/'

Leigh Hunt to Charles Cowden Clarke, July 1, 1817.

["Junkets" was his intimates' affectionate nickname for
John Keats, applied to his exurberance of spirit.]

What has become of "Junkets"? I know well.
The goldfinch, the wildbriar, the elm-trees know.
The secret's one the sunset burns to telL
The gossiping brooks divulge it as they flow.
The tranced white clouds convey it ; tattle-tale
Is every leaf in every woodland ride.
Sunlight on dappled lane and grassy swale
Smiles it to all the English countryside,

19

He did not die nigh to the Spanish stairs
In drowsing Rome, even if his dust is hid
Under her violets, his last despairs
At rest beside the Cestian pyramid.
That valiant spirit wherein all beauty quivered
Outlives forever the failing brain and heart
Consumed by love when lightning many-rivered
Descended on the altar of his art.

And summer's wind that runs the rippling barley
(Watched by his hazel eyes with such delight),
Bees on the foxglove bloom in buzzing parley,
The flickering shadow of a swallow's flight,
Hold him more closely now than all his glories
Of marbled myth, all that our world esteems
Of jewelled language in those enchanted stories
He wove on purple tapestry of dreams.

Now he exults in all the secret raptures
Of earth, all color and fragrance near or far,
Flows through the flaming sunset, storms and captures
The throbbing, luminous heart of every star.
The flowers, the clouds, the birds are his in keeping.
They brighten beneath that swift and viewless wing.
His is all summer's shining, all autumn's weeping,
All the wild virginal ardor of the spring.

* This poem in commemoration of the Centenary of JoJm
Keats was read before the Authors' OM> of New fork on
Thursday ; February 84.

The Literary Review William Rose Benet

N. Y. Evening Post

A BANQUET:

One Memory from Socrates

After the song the love, and after the love the play,

Flute girl and pretty boy blowing

Bubbles of sparkling

Wine into darkling

Beards of a former austerity, stern even now, but

fast growing

Foolish, with less of the stately
Reserve that held them sedately.
Oh Zeus, what a sight ! with the wine dripping off it,
The grin of an ass on a bald-pated prophet.

After the feast the night, and after the night the day,

Fool and philosopher stirring

With the day dawning,

Stretching and yawning,

While in each wine-throbbing, desolate brain is the

i wheeling and whirring
Of thousands of Jsats, that the slaking
Of throats will not hinder from aching,
No wine for the brow that is beating to bursting,
But water at morning is quench for the thirsting !

The Boston Transcript Ernest Benshimol

THE WIPE'S SONG

When I awake

And hear my heart call loudly at my breast,
Stirred with the dream that vanishes away,
When all the night is resonant with unrest
And gates of darkness stand before the day
I worship you.

21

When the years

Have left us silent by the unending road

I will not mock at death nor call it soon.,

I will not wake again the living goad!

But at this moment give me the vanished moon,

I fear the night!

"Stir and smile."

You do not hear: I have not spoken so,

But from my heart the wish of it all has sped.

I dare not speak ; the unearthly sound might go,

Return unheard, and tell me you are dead.

I dare not speak.

Love of mine,

What is the torrent white that falters, falls
Far downward^ wakened from its misty dream,
Crashing over the rugged mountain walls,
What is the cataract without the stream,
Or what am I ?

What am I

Unless you wake and draw me to you now,
Unless you banish the dust of dreams and press
These trembling lips of mine, unless you vow
Love's endless promise in your dear caress,
Oh what am I?

The Boston Transcript Ernest Benshimol

THE HUNCHBACK

I saw a hunchback climb over a hill,
Carrying slops for the pigs to swill.

The snow was hard, the air was frore,
And he cast a bluish shadow before.

Over the frozen hill he

Like one who is neither strong nor lame;

And I saw his face as he passed me by,
And the hateful look of his dead-fish eye:

His face, like the face of a wrinkled child
Who has never laughed or played or smiled.

/

I watched him till his work was done;
And suddenly God went out of the sun,

Went out of the sun without a sound

But the great pigs trampling the frozen ground.

The hunchback turned and retracked the snows ;
But where God's gone, there's no man knows.

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse John Peale Bishop

MY DELIGHT

Thick and stormy was the night,

Not a single star,
When I climbed to my delight,

Where the roses are;

Where the roses are and love,

In a bower warm,
Climbing up to heaven above

Night and wind and storm.

Contemporary Verse Gamaliel Bradford

WHOLESOME HELL

If praying to the saints could comf ort^
Bribing with candle or with vow,

They might ensconce my soul in some fort
More sure and safe than I know now.

To kneel before a tawdry altar,
Propitiate a wooden Christ

If this could strengthen hopes that falter,
My pride were fitly sacrificed.

But heathen god and Roman martyr

And Calvin's Trinity as well
Have wholly forfeited their charter.

I yearn at times for wholesome hell.

Contemporary Verse Gamaliel Bradford

WARNING

Ask me nothing now, my dear
The stars are all too large and near;
At dusk the peepers in the pool
Make my pulses play the fool;
Robins with morning winds awake
And in my spirit barriers break;
The willows are too golden green,
The grasses are too young and clean,
The little brooks too loud and swift;
Too red a crest the maples lift.
The heart of life beats high and glad
Can we keep wise when earth goes mad?
Do not ask me anything
Lest misfortune fall.
I am in love with Love and Spring
And not with you at all !

The Outlook Amelia Josephine Burr

TYPHOON

We shall not shiver as we vainly try
To stir cold ashes once again to fire,
Nor bury a dead passion, you and I.
The wind that weds a moment sea and
In one exultant storm and passes by,
Was our desire*

The Bookman Amelia Jotephtne Burr

FEEL OF BRAMBLES

She will bear him children with straight backs and

sturdy limbs,

Clear-eyed children with untroubled minds.
Mine would have been brown things, questioners
With little hoofs, I think;
Lovers of wind and rain
And twisted brambly paths over the hills.
But he was afraid afraid of the brown-hoofed ones ;
And more afraid that sometimes,
As we grew old together,
I would slip away from him to the hills ;
Where he because of gout, or girth, or civic dignity-
Could not come after.

He need not have been troubled :
Long before that I should have lost the feel of
brambles.

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Hazel Rawson Cadet

THEOCRITUS

B' ou ftoXejJiou<;, 8* ou Scbtpua

Not of war, nor of tears did be build bis sang,

For the bills and tbe fields and the shepherd throng

Are caught in bis delicate net of words,

With the dread wood-nymphs and the grey sea birds.

Daphnis, be sang. "Daphnis is dying now.

Ye violets bear thorns, ye cattle bow

Your beads and weep for Daphnis." And he sang

Of Polyphemus till the meadows rang.

Of Aeschines he sang; then bowed his head

And sang of Amaryllis loved, yet dead.

Then in a gladdened tone be told tbe tales

Of goatherds* loves in still Sicilian vales.

There the cicada with a noisy note

Chirped in the pine tree while the poet wrote.

Within his verse he caught the hum of bees

That haunt the flowers underneath those trees,

Mary Lapsley Caughey
The North "American Review

TO HILDA OF HER ROSES

Enough has been said about roses

To fill thirty thick volumes:

There are as many songs about roses

As there are roses in the world

That includes Mexico. . . .the Azores. . . .Oregon,

It is a pity your roses

Are too late for Omar

It is a pity Keats has gone ,

26

there must be something left to say
Of flowers like these !
Adventurers,
They pushed their way
Through dewy tunnels of the June night. . .

Now they confer

A little tremulous

Dazzled by the yellow sea-beach of morning.

If Herrick would tiptoe back

If Blake were to look this way

Ledwidge, even!

Contemporary Verse Grace Hazard ConJcUng

PHAEDRA REMEMBERS CRETE

Think, O my soul,
of the red sands of Crete ;
think of the earth, the heat
burnt fissure like the great
backs of the temple serpents ;
think of the world you knew ;
as the tide crept, the land
burned with a lizard-blue
where the dark sea met the sand.

Think, O my soul

what power has struck you blind

is there no desert root, no forest-berry,

pine-pitch, or knot of fir

known that can help the soul

caught in a force, a power,

passionless, not its own ?

27

So I scatter, so wvplore

Gods of Crete, summoned before

with slighter craft j

Ah, hear my prayer:

Grant to my soul

the body that U wore*

trained to youf thought,

that kept and held your power,

as the petal of black power

the opiate of the -flower.

For art undreamt In Crete,

strange art and dire*

in counter-charm prevents my charm,

limits my power:

pine-cones I heap

Grant answer to my prayer.

No more, my soul

as the black cup, sullen and dark with fire,

burns still beside it., noon's bright heat

is withered, filled with dust;

and into that noon-heat

grown drab and stale,

is sudden sound of tihunder and swift rain,

till the scarlet flower is wrecked

in the slash of tne white hail.

The poppy that my soul was,
formed to bind all mortals,
made to strike and gather hearts
like flame upon an altar,
fades and shrinks, a red leaf
waste and drift of the cold rain.

The Dial H. D.

28

PHAEDRA REBUKES HIPPOLYTA

Swift and a broken rock
clatters across the steep shelf*
of the mountain-slope,

sudden and swift,

and breaks as it clatters down

into the hollow breach

of the dried water-course;

far and away

(through re^ I see it,

and smoke of the dead, withered stalks

of the wild cistus-brush)

Hippolyta, frail and wild,

galloping up the slope

between great boulders

and shelves and circles of rock.

I see it, sharp, this vision,

and each fleck on the horse's flanks

of foam, the bridle and bit,

the silver the reins,

held fast with perfect art,

the sun, striking athwart

the silver work,

the neck, strained forward, ears alert,

and the head of the girl

Hung back and her throat.

Ah* burn my fire, I ask

out of the smoke-ringed darkness

enclosing the flaming disk

of my vision

I ask for a voice an answer

was site chaste?

29

Who can say,

the broken ridge of the hills

was the line of a lover's shoulder,

his arm-turn,, the path to the hills,

the sudden leap and swift thunder

of mountain-boulders his laugh.

She was mad

as no priest, no lover's cult

could grant madness ;

the wine that entered her heart

with the touch of the mountain-rocks

was white, intoxicant:

she, the lithe and remote,

was betrayed by the glint

of light on the hills,

the granite splinters of rock,

the touch of the stone

where heat melts

toward the shadow-side of the rocks.

The Dial H. D.

FRANCESCA

(19041917)

I.

Sweet of the dawn is she!
Sure of her garlands fair,
Sure of her morning brief,
With what an air
She hands Eternity
A bud, a leafl

80

P"ar down a, world wound-red
All unappalled she looks ;
Where I stare barrenly,
She beauty plucks
From an untrampled bed,
Till suddenly I see.

Once more at star shall break
For me the crocus* mould;
The full year's end sleep in
A marigold;

And firs in the snow wind shake
Locks of genie and jinn.

Again over earth and me

Shall fall the coverlet

Spread by a godmother moon.

Till we forget

Night's thin, gold irony

That hid nor scar nor bone.

O, sweet with, her to climb
Youth's high, unguided trail !
Along sky ledges haste,
Palms to the gale
That showers song and rhyme
As petals blow and waste !

And when in mothy light

Of trees and listening du.sk,

I see her filmy go

To him, her knight^

What sap of bloom shall flow

Into dream's silvered Irusk !

What if, at lier matron knee

In some yet covered year,

The bardling 1 I never bore

Has sound of the hidden sea

That calls till a heart, or a sphere,

Is dumb or more?

My wand is she that smites
Open the prophet's wall;
My arrow in the sun,
Sped for no fall;
My bird along the heights
Where I shall never run,

n

She sleeps now.

Her hair, duskily nursing her cheek,
Fills me with strange music,
Like the dark flowing water of snow-fields.
Her brow,, that was mere, frail porcelain,
Holding a child's few treasures,
In a pale, prophetic expanse
Over dreams that bide their vast venture.

I gaze long at her face,

Thinking at last I shall know her;

For awake she is always hiding

In ripples and pools of change.

Waves of April flow around her,

And she is nay willow witch,

Weaving her web of winds

Above the blue water;

But she lifts her eyes,

Like two hours of June,

And is so nearly a rose

That to-morrow the dawn will be lapping

Gold from her open heart;

Then a laugh like Christmas day

Shuffles the seasons.

And I see chrysanthemums in a Southern garden;

White breasts in the dusk.

But now she sleeps; no stirs;
Stirs with the covetous fever
That armoured in silence creeps
By the wariest watch of lovers,

And the miracle bars of skilL

"Talk to me, Tifa, talk."

"Of what, dear Beauty?"

"Ah, that is it beauty/*

I lose a whisper, and -wait.

""The song 1 the song we heard **

And I know I must tell again

The story of the bird, the lowland rover

That high above our mountain orchard

Sang till a cadent coast

Rose on the unbodied air,

And all our outbound dreams put back

[Where his music made a shore.

(Words, words ! So soft
That they may fall on pain
And make it less ! Softer than leaves
Tapping a forest sleeper; while the heart
Is like a swollen glacier crowding earth,)

Up he went singing; climbed a spiral chain
That linked his joy to heaven;
And circling, swerving as he rose, he built
An airy masonry of smoothest domes
And jetting minarets, as though he saw
From his blue height a city of the East
And in a music mirror set it fair
For his high rapture* Did we see it?
Slim, flowing alleys, streets that wound
To temples cool as shaded lakes;
Pure arches, pillars of piled notes;
Cornice and frieze and pendant flung
In rillets from one tiny heart
As prodigal as God's?

What, dearest? When you die

You'll stop and live there? Not g& on

To Heaven?

S3

No, you remember

Our city fell; came tumbling to the grass
With aU its palaces and domes,
Not one note on another,
Where he, the breathless builder, fluttered,
Happy in ruin.

Yes, lie panted so?
Tell you cool things?

(Words, words !

Running like water under leaves,
That they may fall on pain
And make it less !)

Cool, my heavenliest?
Then shall we walk again
Between the winter and the cliff
Where green things clung? the little venturers,
Lustrous and shyly brave, that feed on shade
And tug at scornful bowlders
Till they are gay and gentle ?
They were all there; the fronds and tresses;
Fingers and baby's palm;

The curling tufts, the plumelets proudly niched,
And little unknown leaves
That make the cold their mother;
The hearts and lances and unpious spires ;
The emerald gates to houses of the gnomes.
The fairy tents that vanish at a name;
Each greener than Spring's footprint when her track
Is bright as sea-wet beryl;
Yet wearing like an outer soul
A silvered breath of winter. There
They waited, magically caught
Within a crystal smile. A place, we thought,
Where one might listen, standing long,
Thinking to hear some secret
Earth tells but once to time.

34

They waited, pearled in eagerness,

Small subject wonderers of a land

Whose king was out-o'-doors

And would betimes go by.

He came the sun!

The swift, old marvel of the sun!

For thirty midday seconds came the sun!

And you were still as every leaf he touched,

Long after his gold passing.

Yes? Your breath
Went all away into the shining?
God spoke too loud that time? Tell you

Sleep holds her . . .
But sleep comes creeping, and takes
No sudden throne. If it be not sleep,
But the other? . . .

I sit in the folds of a dread

As in a husk that widens and swells

Till it strikes the sky.

Who is it standing, a fiend

Like a mountain darkening upward

Dropping and dropping and dropping

The ocean into a glass ?

Why are the walls so near and so cold?

Wavering and greenish white?

Why are they rocking, and covered with shadows

That mightily grasp and fade?

I know. We are under the sea.

Like a petal her face goes drifting;

A white rose petal that swirls away*

Far up is the water's clear surface;

High up, where the sky used to be;

And above it lies the good air,

We must climb . r . climb, my loveliest.

Climb ... we cannot breathe . . , down here .

Under the sea.

35

Ill

If Death had taken my orange-tree,
Its gold-lit boughs, and magic birds
Singing for me,

I would not bear, though bright the dead,
This daunted head.

If Death had taken the one whose care
My fortune feeds, my roof endows,
Leaving me bare,

I'd meet the world from some kind door,
Gay as before.

If Death had taken my friend, the god,
Who walks among us masked as man,
Wearing the clod
To find his brother, I could live,
Love and forgive.

But she was Beauty; planets swing,
And ages toil, that one like her
May make dust sing;
And I, who held her hand, must go
Alone, and know.

%
Scribner's Magazine Olive Tilford Dargan

UNREALITY

Through the window-pane I see your face,

Its outline a little vague

In the dimness of the shadow.

But the whiteness of your skin

Is like a clean ship's sail,

With the rays of a thousand moonbeams sweeping over

Standing out in the darkness of a night.

36

And your eyes, I see them like two golden bowls,

them.

As I pass out into the blackness,
I wonder if I have ever really known you
Or if you exist at all,
And are not but a twisted, fevered, silver creation of

my brain.

And the unreality of you comes over me,
Like a mist upon a lonely sea.

Poetry, 'A Magazine of Verse Mercedes de Acosta

LACRIMAE RERUM

Bossetti walked his sorrow to a field.

Lay in the grass, and watched the wood-spurge flower.

The three-cupped wood-spurge: all that earth would

yield

Bossetti to remember of that hour.
He lay with grief, as others too have lain
Who must remember strangely other things.
Tilings that still keep the contours o their pain,
Whose colors cling longer than sorrow clings.

The tears of things that have not any words,
Deeper than music, stronger than the sea,
And sadder than the flight of homing birds :
Remembered things, outlasting memory.
The shapes of suffering hold, when you and I
And sorrow, and this cause for sorrow, die.

The New Republic Babette DeutscU

PENBEB'S TOMB

"Upon these stones Time broke his teeth/* yon said.
We stood in Penreb's tomb, and stared npon
The hammered blocks that held the royal dead
Whose pomp still stood, altho' his breath was gone.
You said, "Slaves sweated for that narrow room."
Their scattered bones are mixed with desert sand;
But on the high walls, ruddy in the gloom,
The files of the king's servitors yet stand.

We shall not rear to death such monuments
With massive marble, nor with crimson chalk.
Nor wrap our withered limbs in cerements
More spicy than our rare ephemeral talk.
So Time, who broke his teeth upon these stones,
Gnaws at our hearts, careless of Penreb's bones.

The New Republic Babette Deutsch

KNOWLEDGE

Now there is no confusion in our love

For you are there

With the big brow, the cheek of tougher grain,

The rougher greying hair;

And I am here, with a woman's throat and hands.

We are apart and different.

And there is something difference understands

That peace knows nothing of.

It is the pain in pleasure that we seek

To kill with kisses and revive

With other kisses;

For by our hurt we know we are alive.

SB

iThe tides returns into the salty sea,

And sea-fingered rocks are swept and grey

There are no secrets where the sea has crept,

But the sea

Has kept its ageless mystery.

And we,

Beaten by the returning passional tides,

Searched by the stabbing fingers,

Washed and lapped and worn by the old assault,

Knowing again

The bitterness of the receding wave,

With renewed wonder facing the old pain,

We are as close

As one wave fallen upon another wave;

We are as far

As the sky's star from the sea-shaken star.

Love is not the moon

Pulling the whole sea up to her.

And there is something darkness understands

These moons know nothing of.

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Babette Deutsch

PORTRAITS

I

Keen as the breath of frozen fjords

And poised

Like an adventurous ship with blonde sails flying

Until you smiled with blue, lit eyes:

The sun

Splintered upon an iceberg's shining flanks.

39

II

You are as restless as a startled leaf

Tossed in a gale.

Yet you have peace,

When the wind drops you,

Deep as a deep well, where leaning stars

Stoop to another sky.

Ill

Your mind is like a road in some far country

Where soft-footed dreams,

Past mountain shrines and thundering waterfalls,

Through harsh bright cities, by abandoned tombs,

Pace without destination or regret.

Yet they are quick and subtle too,

Being tutored by your thoughts.

They love to scare the dusk with scarlet robes ;

And plunge, nude maidens, into the midnight river.

IV

The wall of fog at the pier's end,

And the half-risen curtain

At the ballet,

The tuning-up of the orchestra,

And the harsh-throated brunt of revolt,

You engrossed.

An ironic observer,

Or an amateur of sensation?

V

And you, girl lover, how you spread your dreams
Like bloomy plums and pears and lucent grapes
At a fair.
You are an urchin with awed eyes and astonished

laughter
To whom the antiquated show is a bomb of delight.

40

VI

A rock whereon the sea beats tirelessly
With futile hands
You are.

The patient stone
No tides or storms can stir.
Under your shadow
I remember death

And the remorseless stars who were
Your ancient bright companions in the sky.

VII

Are you no more
Than an embodied hunger ?
Gnawing still
At the unanswered riddle.
You spurn the kingly crumbs,
But you bring bread
To those who share your spiritual fast.

The Tale Review Babette Deutsch

THE MOMENT OF BEAUTY

Up through the mud and gravel Beauty climbs
To light plain things of earth in sun and wet,
Till what we must have passed a thousand times
We some day see, and never can forget !
Strange how the thousand times fade out at last
And leave the one time when our eyes could see
How Beauty with a touch rubs out the Past,
And sets a new mark up for memory.
A boulder beautiful beyond belief,
Witch-hazel blossoms bitten by the cold,
Touched with a sudden beauty, bright and brief,
Make pictures that we see till we are old;

Ay, what has once been a transfigured thing
Halts us, long after, with remembering.

Romance Abbie Huston Evans

THE MOUNTAINS

Wind blows upon them salt-edged from the ocean,
Rain beats upon them, blackening the stone,
Frost heaves the ledges with obscure commotion,
And the hilltops bleach like bone.

Dwindling mountains are they on a dwindling planet,
These that look so solid, these that show so fair ;
Wind and rain and frost and hail set tooth to the

granite,
It wastes like smoke into air.

Though they now are passing like a slow word spoken,

In the inch of time wherein man stands alone

He sees their rock-knees holding, sees their flanks

unbroken,
And his heart drinks strength from the stone.

Yet they are at best but a short-lived generation,
Such as stars must laugh at as they journey forth.
Think of old Orion, that great constellation,
And the Dipper all alone in the north!

Romance Abbie Huston Evans

THE BOOK OF LU TANG CHU

In the reign of the great Emperor Lu T'ang Chu
Wise men were ordered to inscribe in a book
All the great body of wisdom that men knew.
Today I turn the pages, and as I look
I cannot see anything very new or old,
And I wonder why it was worth the trouble, then,
Of days and nights and a thousand labors untold
Which the volume must have exacted from those v/ise

men.

But still we write and the Emperor now is blown
As grey dust over the limitless Asian plains.
Still we inscribe all that is humanly known,
Although no ruler honors us for our pains
Hecording a thousand wisdoms, all our own,
To celebrate our good and glorious reigns.

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Arthur Davison Ficke

PRELUDE

He speaks

Open your eyes.

I have never seen them,

She answers

I am afraid to open my eyes. . . .
Be content to look upon my hands.

He speaks

Your hands are moist and gentle,

Your hands are long and slow

And smooth as apples.

Your hands are restful and far distant

As nude hills beyond hot plains.

Your hands are tender as young clover leaves*

4$

I know the colour of your eyes.

They are grey of unripe peaches,

And silent green of peridot

Made dumb with stars.

Open your eyes.

I have never seen them.

She answers

I am afraid to open my eyes. . . .
Be content to look upon my throat.

He speaks

Your throat is white as an Egyptian moth

And curves like a temple bell.

Your throat glistens like oak leaves

And is cool as September wind,

Cooler than fresh earth.

I know the colour of your eyes.

They are blue as larkspur

And shimmer more heedlessly

Than snow on blossoming orchards.

Open your eyes.

I have never seen them.

She answers

I am afraid to open my eyes.

He speaks

Are they as black as trees at night ?
Are there wings of sun within them,
Fluttering at the candle of your thoughts?
Are they pale brown as tassels of summer corn?
Are they gold as Venetian sails ?
Open your eyes.

44

She answers

I am afraid to open my eyes.

With them closed

I see forests pillared like the streets

Of ancient Antioch.

I see mountains

Transparent in the evening sun

As the yellow sarong of an Indian princess.

I know secrets so delicate,

They would shatter beneath gossamer.

There is forgotten fragrance in my nostrils.

Weighty and vivid music sags above me.

Can you hear it?

I feel distances without horizon,

And depths so great

That they are heights.

He speaks

Open your eyes.

She answers

Would life still be

Eesounding days of singing columns,

Tall nights of wistful towers ?

And would the sweet, immeasurable earth

Chant beneath my feet?

Could I still sleep beside the moon

And wake to silence coming like a flock of swans

Upon my consciousness?

If I should . . . open my eyes?
The Measure Hildegarde Planner

45

COMMUNION

I have spoken with the dead ;

From the silence of my bed

I have heard them in the night.

Their voices are as white

As altar candles. Their voices are as gold as wheat,

And clustered in the dark their words are sweet

As ripened f ruit. Their voices are the color of dim

rain

Over grass where spring has lain.
Their speaking is an orchard of delight.
I have heard them in the night;
Their lips bloomed into heavy song
That hung like bells above me. You are -
Who say the dead lie still :
I heard them sing until
The cup of silence fell in two and lay
Broken by beauty of what dead men say.

There is no loveliness I cannot see.
There is no wall too stern for me.
There is no door that can withstand
The lifted symbol of my hand.

I know an ancient shibboleth:

I pass, for I have talked with Death !

Poetry , A Magazine of Verse Hildegarde Planner

ALLEGIANCE

I have not forgotten yet
Skin that chokes like mignonette,
I who drank myself to death
With the apples of your breath,
I who blasphemously went
Into your beauty's tenement,
I who eagerly confessed
Upon the altar of your breast.

I who falter in the snare
Of your canary-colored hair,
Sacredly could not forget
Skin that chokes like mignonette.

The Bookman Hildegarde Flanncr

THE SILENCE

There is a silence which I carry about with me

always ;

A silence perpetual, for it is self-created;
A silence of heat, of water, of unchecked f ruitfulness,
Through which each year the heavy harvests bloom,

and burst, and fall.

Deep, matted green silence of my South,

Often, within the push and the scorn of great cities,

I have seen that mile-wide waste of water swaying

out to you,
And on its current glimmering I am going to the sea.

47

There is a silence I have achieved I have walked

beyond its threshold.
I know it is without horizons, boundless, fathomless,

perfect.

And some day maybe, far away,
I shall curl up in it at last and sleep an endless sleep.

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse John Gould Fletcher

THE STEVEDORES

Frieze of warm bronze that glides with cat-like move-
ments

Over the gang-plank poised and yet awaiting,
The sinewy thudding rhythms of forty shuffling feet
Palling like muffled drum-beats on the stillness:

Ok, roll the cotton down
Roll, roll, the cotton down!
From the further side of Jordan,
Oh, roll the cotton down!

And the river waits,

The river listens,

Chuckling with little banjo-notes that break with a

plop on the stillness.
And by the low dark shed that holds the heavy

freights,
Two lonely cypress trees stand up and point with

stiffened fingers
Far southward where a single chimney stands aloof

in the sky.

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse John Gould Fletcher
48

PURCHASE

[Certain letters written by Lorenzo de' MecKci are sold at
auction.]

They shall come in and chat, their purses hid,

The men -who hold rare things and gently smile,
They shall disturb frail, musty sheets and bid

A fortune for this letter or gray file
Of parchment, nobly written by the hand

That loved to gleam in gems and curious rings,
Point out a man for death give castles, land,

Or rest on ermined shoulders of tall kings
And through the room, as from an unsealed urn,

Shadows will drift, faint shapes of Florence

dead,
Born of these records men shall lift and turn,

Knowing as he, who gave the artists bread
For white madonnas, saints, God's cloudy throne,
A man may buy what he can never own !

Harper's Magazine Hortense Fl&xner

A HILLSIDE THAW

To think to know the country and not know

The hillside on the day the sun lets go

Ten million silver lizards out of snow.

As often as I've seen it done before

I can't pretend to tell the way it's done.

It looks as if some magic of the sun

Lifted the rug that bred them on the floor

And the light breaking on them made them run.

But if I thought to stop the wet stampede,

And caught one silver lizard by the tail,

And put my foot on one without avail,

And threw myself wet-elbowed and wet-kneed

49

In front o twenty others" wriggling speed,

In the confusion of them all aglitter

And birds that joined in the excited fun

By doubling and redoubling song and twitter,

I have no doubt I'd end by holding none.

It takes the moon for this. The sun's a wizard

By all I tell; but so's the moon a witch.

From the high west she makes a gentle cast

And suddenly without a jerk or twitch

She has her spell on every single lizard.

I fancied when I looked at eight o'clock

The swarm still ran and scuttled just as fast.

The moon was waiting for her chill effect.

I looked at ten : the swarm was turned to rock

In every life-like posture of the swarm,

Transfixed on mountain slopes almost erect.

Across each other and side by side they lay.

The spell that so could hold them as they were

Was wrought through trees without a breath of storm

To make a leaf, if there had been one, stir.

It was the moon's. She held them until one day,

One lizard at the end of every ray.

The thought of my attempting such a stay !

The New Republic Robert Frost

MISGIVING

All crying, "We will go with you, O Wind/'
The foliage follow him, leaf and stem,

But a sleep oppresses them as they go,

And they end by bidding him stay with them,

Since ever they flung abroad in spring,

The leaves have promised themselves this flight,
Who now would fain seek sheltering wall,

Or thicket, or hollow place for the night.

50

And now they answer the summoning blast

With an ever vaguer and vaguer stir,
Or, at utmost, a little reluctant whirl

That drops them no further than where they were.

I only hope that when I am free,

As they are free^ to go in quest
Of the knowledge beyond the bounds of life,

It may not seem better to me to rest.

The Tde Review Robert Frost

THE NEED OF BEING VERSED IN
COUNTRY THINGS

The house had gone to bring again

To the midnight sky a sunset glow.
Now the chimney was all of the house that stood,

Like a pistil after the petals go.

The barn opposed across the way,

That would have joined the house in flame

Had it been the will of the wind, was left
To bear forsaken the place's name.

No more it opened with all one end
For teams that came by the stony road

To drum on the floor with scurrying hoofs
And brush the mow with the summer load.

The birds that came to it through the air

At broken windows flew out and in,
Their murmur more like the sigh we sigh

From too much dwelling on what has been

51

Yet for them the lilac renewed its leaf,

And the aged elm, though touched with fire;

And the dry pump flung up an awkward arm ;
And the fence post carried a strand of wire.

For them there was really nothing sad.

But though they rejoiced in the nest they kept,
One had to be versed in country things

Not to believe the phoebes wept.

Harper's Magazine Robert Frost

A STAR IN A STONE-BOAT

Never tell me that not one. star of all

That slip from heaven at night and softly fall

Has been picked up with stones to build a wall.

Some laborer found one faded and stone cold,
And saving that its weight suggested gold,
And tugged it from his first too certain hold,

He noticed nothing in it to remark.

He was not used to handling stars thrown dark

And lifeless from an interrupted arc.

He did not recognize in that smooth coal
The one thing palpable besides the soul
To penetrate the air in which we roll.

He did not see how like a flying thing

It brooded ant-eggs, and had one large wing,

One not so large for flying in a ring,

And a long Bird of Paradise's tail,
(Though these when not in use to fly and trail
It drew back in its body like a snail) ;

52

Nor know that he might move it from the spot
The harm was done: from having been star shot
The very nature of the soil was hot

And burning to yield flowers instead of grain,
Flowers fanned and not put out by all the rain
Poured on them by his prayers prayed in vain.

He moved it roughly with an iron bar.
He loaded an old stone-boat with the star
And not, as you might think, a flying car,

Such as even poets would admit perforce
More practical than Pegasus the horse
If it could put a star back in its course.

He dragged it though the ploughed ground at a pac
But faintly reminiscent of the race
Of jostling rock in interstellar space.

It went for building-stone, and I as though

Commanded in a dream forever go

To right the wrong that this should have been so.

Yet ask where else it could have gone as well,
I do not know I cannot stop to tell :
He might have left it lying where it fell.

From following walls I never lift my eye
Except at night to places in the sky
Where showers of charted meteors let fly.

Some may know what they seek in school and church
And why they seek it there; for what I search
I must go measuring stone walls, perch on perch;

Sure that though not a star of death and birth,
So not to be compared, perhaps, in worth
To such resorts of life as Mars and Earth,-'

53

Though not, I* say, a star of death and sin,
It yet has poles, and only needs a spin
To show its worldly nature and begin

To chafe and shuffle in my calloused palm
And run off in strange tangents with my arm
As fish do with the line in first alarm.

Such as it is, it promises the prize

Of the one world complete in any size

That I am like to compass, fool or wise.

The Yale Review Robert Frost

NORAH EN DK ARK

I wisht dat I wuz Nor ah a-sailin* in de Ark,

A-sailin*, sailin', sailin' fur away.

He heerd his Massa callin* him, a-callin* thoo the dark,

A-callin*, callin*, callin* all de day.

Norah he wuz righeous, en de Lawd He say, sezee,

"Go mek yerse'f a dwellin'-place en ride upon de sea."

En Norah say, perlitely, "You done right ter pick

on me,"
En he hammer, hammer, hammer w'ile he pray.

Gawd He walk* wid Norah,
JEfn Nor all walk 3 wid Gawd.
In de coolness 6b de ev'nin' time
Norah walk* wid Gawd.

De Lawd he says ter Norah, "Mek dat Ark o'goopher

wood,

En hammer, hammer, hammer wid yer might,
En black it up wid pitch V tar, en waterproof it good,
En hammer, hammer, hammer ha'd en tight.
Go mek it fifty cupids wide en tlrty cupids high,
En mek it monst'us long er e'se I'll know de reason

w'y;

54

En build it up free stories, wid a winder f er ter spy,
En hammer, hammer, hammer day an* night."
Gawd He walk' wid Norah, etc.

De Lawd he say ter Norah, "Set yer fambly all ter

work

Ter hammer, hammer, hammer wid deir might.
Don* let yer sons en wimmen en de pickaninnies shirk ;
Dey nans' hammer, hammer, hammer ha'd en tight."
En Norah say, "I years Y'u, en we'll wo'k lak de Ole

Nick.

I knows it ain't no picnic f er ter build a boat so quick,
But ef we-alls des humps ourse'fs we's boun' ter do

de trick,

Ef we hammer, hammer, hammer day en night/'
Gawd He walk* wid Norah, etc.

Now, Norah he was gittin* on, but full o' soopleness,

En hammer, hammer, hammer wid 'is might.

His years wuz ha'f a t'ousan', wid a hunderd, mo'er

less,

But he hammer, hammer, hammer ha'd en tight.
Ham he wuz a hummer en a hammerer t' boot.
He foun' de fines' goopher trees en pull 'em by de

root;

En Shem he wuz 'is pappy's pet en w'istle on dc flute
Wile dey hammer, hammer, hammer day en night.
Gawd He walk' wid Norah, etc.

Japet wuz de younges', des a hunderd year er so.
But he hammer, hammer, hammer wid 'is might,
He run 'is pappy's errants en he w'ittle on de do',
En hammer, hammer, hammer ha'd en tight,
En w'en de Ark wuz finish' Norah mek de 'tation lis'
En 'vited all de beasteses, en not a one he miss',
En he ax' de birds en fishes kaze de Lawd He done

insis',

Wile he hammer, hammer, hammer day en night.
Gawd He walk' wid Ndrah, etc.

55

"Now, how does you sergashuate?" sez Norah ter a

w'ale.

"Des hurry, hurry, hurry 'fo' hit's dark.
Be sho* you bring de missus, en don* flop eroun' yer

tail,,

Ner squabble, squabble, squabble wid de shark."
He axes Mistah Skeetur would he please ter enter in.
Mis' Norah she git mad ez hops en say it wuz a sin,
Wich mek de Skeetur huffy en he stung *er on de

chin,

En hammer, hammer, hammer thoo de Ark.
Gawd He walk* wid Norah, etc.

Dey all went in by twoses, en at las' de Ark wuz full,

En wot-a, wot-a, wot-a load wuz dey I

Shem bolted fas' de winder, en den give de bell a pull,

En dey floated, floated, floated up de bay.

De Lawd He say ter Norah, "Wid des all Mah might

en main,

For fo'ty days en fo'ty nights I's gwinter sen* a rain,
En ef you-alls behaves yerse'fs, ner takes Mah name

in vain,

You'll go sailing sailin', sailin* fur away."
Gawd He walk 3 wid NoraJi, etc.

En w'en de ride wuz did en done, dey all goes troo

dedo'

Ez happy, happy, happy ez a lark,
En falls down on deir kneeses fer ter t'ank de Lawd

f er sho'

Dey wuz 'livered, 'livered, 'livered f'om de dark.
De Lawd He flung a rainbow 'crost de elements en sky,
En He say ter Mistah Norah, "You is monst'us peart

en spry,
En I'll neber disremembers you's de apple ob Mah

eye,

Fer you hammer, hammer, hammer on de Ark/*
Gawd He walk 9 wid Norah, etc.

TJte Outlook Louis Ayres Garnet

56

WY DE BLACK POLKS AM SO GOOD

Dere's some w'at says dat de Lawd wuz out

Wen nigger folks wuz made.

De debil lie come roun' at dusk

A-shamblin* thoo de shade.

He bed a bucket full o* tar

He'd toted f'om below,

En* be melt it wid a red-bot star

'Til be bed it bile' des so.

He went to wo'k en' made a man

De spittin* twin o* paw,

Den sot a *ooman long beside

Prezackly lak yer maw.

He lef *em des outside de gate^

En w*en de Lawd come borne

He seed *em, peart an' biggetty,

A-peerin* thoo de gloam.

Sezee, "Dat debit's at *is tricks;

1*11 stir up one myse'f.**

So He ups en* blows on bof e on *em

'Til be chocked *em full o* bref.

"Now scoot T* sezee, en' off dey scamps

A-cbasin* Brudder Nick,

Who, w'en he seed *em at *is heels,

Begun ter holler quick:

"Oh, mercy, Lawd, dear Mistah Lawd !

I is de f ooly one.

I mek You secb a fine supprise

En* dis am w'at You done!

Oh, lawsy massy ! call 'em off !

Don* sic *em at mah tail!'*

Den hippety-fetchity on he humps

En* leab a cinder trail.

De Lawd He call dem niggers back,

Den laff Hisse'f plum sick.

"Lib on,*' sezee, "en* multerply,

En* keep on skeerin* Nick/'

En* dat*s de w'y ob ev'yt'ing,

57

Fer de debil ter dis day,
W'eneber he sees nigger folks^
Goes lopin* t'other way.

The Outlook Louise Ayres Gafnett

SALEM, CONDITA 1626

So you visited Salem?

And you saw the Witch House

And Gallows Hill?

And the House o Seven Gables,

And Hawthorne's birthplace?

But you did not see Salem.

How could you?

It has been shut up in my heart for forty years.

I think I was the last who saw it.

How could you see Salem?

You never lived with maiden aunts

Who remembered better days

And nothing else.

You never went to school

Next a graveyard

To a grim old dame who

Denounced youth and pleasure

With savage Scripture readings.

You never peeped, with splendid awe,

Beneath dosed blinds

To see wraiths of women

Nursing life-long grudges or heart pangs

Shut in from the light of day.

58

You never ran away

To sit far hours with gray men

Who talked of Hong-Kong and Sumatra

Of Singapore and Java

As one talks of the corner grocery

Or the cohbler next street.

You never had idle ships and wharves

And empty granite warehouses

For playgrounds

Nor roamed through great

Three-story houses with infinite rooms.

All full of dust of the departed

Where even the mice were venerable.

All this I did, and

I can see Salem.

I would like to show it to you,

But if I touch it,

It crumbles.

The Nation H. C. Gauss

PRAYER

O thou elemental

Rain, sun, and body of the quick warm earth:
Hear these words from the cells of thy blood,
Multitudinous, various!

Let the waters at the dim roots of the grass be

sweet,

And the milk be abundant in the breasts of time
Yet a little while, till the pearl-gray banners of

smoke
Be dissolved, and the flowing of rivulets be but a

distant murmur
In the shout and the far white splendor of thy coming.

59

Let thy kindness be as a wide white blanket covering

all

The brave inglorious futile race of men
Who lift tired eyes ever to sad stars
More desolate

Than the wind-harrowed wastes of ocean,,
Whence comes no answer.
And after our futile striving, give us
Peace.

Clifford Franklin Ges$l&'
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse

NEVERTHELESS

Inasmuch as I love you

And shall know no peace more unless I am near you,

Though you are a flame of will

Proud and variable as you are beautiful and dear

Nevertheless I will go your way,

Since you will not go mine.

Therefore, although the cool roads of my village
Are more pleasant to me than the pavements of your

city;
Although its dim streets are more kindly than your

glaring arcs;

Though the unhurried voices of my townspeople
Are more friendly music in my ears than the scream-
ings

And glib chatter of your city-dwellers :
Nevertheless I will go down with you into the city
And bruise my heart upon its bricks;
Become brother to its shrieking "elevated"
And learn to hurry away my days in this brief world
Among the grimy roofs that soil the dean young
sunshine ;

60

Thinking only at long whiles, in summer dusks,
Of hushed paths where hurrying feet have never

trodden,
Of cool lanes white in the splendor of the rising moon.

Clifford FranJclin Gessler
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse

INTERPRETED

Now I know why ivy

Climbs against the wall
Striving to be graceful,

Greener and more tall.

Now I see why swallows

Sweep across the sky
In their swift excitement,

Shrilling as they fly.

Now I hear all music says;

The stream's low murmuring.
Now r I know why gardens grow

And birds forever sing.

All of earth and heaven,

God's grandeur,- with the rest,

I glimpse in flashing worship
While I lie against your breast.

The Boston Transcript Caroline Giltin**

AFTER WHISTLER

This mezzo-tint of mist and smoke blue air,
These gray blue waters, gray black cherry trees
Are Whistler's manner to the brushtip. , . these
And shore-lamps lit against the nearing night,
That lie in little broken lanes of light.

He would ^have washed these wistful colors in

With brooding hand and spirit edged and keen

His vision and the subtle hour akin

Seeing beyond the symbol the unseen,

The overtones of tint, the underglow

Which lends that nameless gleam of lustre-ware

To slow-rippled river there.

Blue-silver lights*! He would have loved them so !
And that black bridge, long-spanned and low,
With the frail mist fringing the farther end.
What art he had for bridges skill to blend
Their arches into his backgrounds of blue air.

Swiftly he would have caught this nocturne mood,

This mood of mist and sky,

And held it in few strokes and fewer tones,

Set there

Below the blurred-in trees his Butterfly

And called it "Silver and Blue." . . .

Bridge-Builder of dreams, I dedicate

This river dusk to you.

The Measure Idgnes KendricTc Gray

THE WORKER

I've towered above the hilt of my spade,

Knowing with what muscle-gnawing action,

I mold the earth into usable shape;

And there arises within me, what is more pain t<

stay . . .
But the desert is answerless.

The desert is blue and yellow and answerless.

I've risen above the hairy smell of me ;

I've held down my rigored fists,

I've stood high over shoulders

To the mind of me * . .

But the mind's unreponsive as lead,

And the lips are sealed as with lead.

As a leaden "bell with a song it must sing.

I've faced men /with God in their faces,

I've shown them the crucifixion in mine;

From a breast not yet washed of oil and mud of

labor

I've loosed my blood on foreign lands for men ;
And I've cried aloud,
But it was not the cry of battle pain.
Now the people wave flags in drunken triumph,
And smother my only song in street dust and confetti.

With my spade IVe changed the desert,
With the fire of me IVe melted the lead:
But men

Even Christ could not make you listen

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse David GreerihooS

SLUMBER SONG

When blue dust thickens in the air

And all the strands of wind
Are braided like unruly hair,

After the sun goes blind,

And I have signed on slumber ships,
Then am I skipper of the skies.

Strange lyrics written on my lips,
Strange sonnets in my eyes.

Then am I singing, it would seem,

To fairy fiddle and bassoon
Till daylight has dissolved the dream

As morning does the moon.

Oh, sweet and sad and quaintly dear

Are secrets that I never tell,
Which stay to haunt my waking ear,

Each like a tiny bell!

And when the blue dust is no more.

And when my loved ones, kind and gay,

Arise and listen at my door
They always steal away,

And leave me to my raptured hours,
Who smile so strangely as I rest,

Pale with the drug of poppy flowers
Still heavy on my breast.

If death be sleep, I wonder why

They gave it not the softer name

Ah, me, but it were dear to die
If dying were the same!

The Smart Set Amanda Benjamin Hall

64

SANDS

My days are like sands; colorless,
Each matched to each, unerringly
They drift. The salt bleach of a sea
Has washed them clean and lustreless;
The teeth of rock on ragged strands
Have ground them to an even gray,
And one "wind blows them a one way,

But the slow making of sands.

All is here; forgotten things

Mix with the unforgettable,

Granite blends with tinted shell,

And nothing so stable that it clings

To its stability. Had there

Been more of marble, more of gold,

The sands would hide in their grim hold

Nothing more wise, nothing more fair.

'But O the slow making of sands.

Grain on grain of even gray,

Slowly they drift in the one way,

Covering the wreck that stands

Against my beach of life. . . . one mast

Cuts at the sky, the hull is fast

In sand the slow-made sands that pull

With the wind . . . covering . . .

And leaving every broken thing

Hushed and coldly beautiful.

The Measure Hasel Hall

SPRING FROM A WINDOW

23 lossom-Time

So long as there is April
My heart is high,
Lifting up its white dreams
To the sky.

As trees hold up their blossoms
In a blowing cloud,
My hands are reaching,
My hands are proud.

All the crumbled splendors
Of autumn, and the cries
Of winds that I remember
Cannot make me wise*

Like the trees of April
Fearless and fair
My heart swings its censers
Through the golden air.

In April

Now I am Life's victim
Cruel victor is he
Who lashes me with color
Until I ache to see.

Who chokes me with fragrance
Of green things in the rain
Like a hand around my throat
So sudden is the pain.

Life, I am at your mercy ;
And though till I am dead
You torture me with April
I will not bow my head!

66

When There is April

Who would fear death when there is April?
Like a flame, like a song
To heal all who have lived with yearning
Year-through, life-long.

When there is April with fulfilment
For longing and for pain,
For every reaching hand that beauty
Has lured in vain.

Who would shrink from the earth when April
With slim rain hands shall reach
Through the doors of dark, and call them
Who love her speech.

Foreboding

How shall I keep April
When my songs are done
How can I be silent
And still feel the sun?

I, who dreaded silence,
I, who April-long
Kept my heart from breaking
With the cry of song.

How can I hold sunlight
In my hands, like gold,
And bear the pain of silence
When my songs are old?

The Yale Review Hazel Hall

67

SUNLIGHT THROUGH A WINDOW

Beauty streamed into my hand
In srm light through a pane of glass;
Now at last I understand
Why suns must pass.

I have held a shadow cool
Reflection of a burning gold,
And it has been more beautiful
Than hands should hold.

To that delicate tracery

Of light^ a force my lips must name

In -whispers of uncertainty,

Has answered through me in a flame.

Beauty is a core of flre
To reaching hands ; even its far
Passing leaves a hurt desire
Like a scar.

TO A DOOR

Door, you stand in your darkened frame
Mindful of your wooden might,
Flaunting relentlessly your claim
As guardian of sound and light.

Yet for all your vigil, Door,
Shadows that slip on panting feet
Over your threshold tinge the floor
With what was sunlight on the street.

And sounds fluttering in to die
(Door^ you thought I should not know!)
Were started by an echo's cry
That was a voice not long ago.

68

STAIRWAYS

Why do I think of stairways
With a rush of hurt surprise?
Wistful as forgotten love
In remembered eyes,
And fitful as the flutter
Of little draughts of air
That linger on a stairway
As though they loved it there.

New and shining stairways,
Stairways worn and old
Where rooms are prison places
And corridors are cold
You intrigue with fancy,
You challenge with a lore
Elusive as a moon's light
Shadowing a floor.

You speak to me not only
With the lure of storied art
For wonder of old footsteps
Lies lightly on my heart;
More than the reminiscence
Of yesterday's renown
Laughter that might have floated up,
Echoes that should drift down!

THE GRAY VEIL

Life flings weariness over me

Like a thick gray veil ; I see

Through its mesh where suns are cold,

Nights are ancient and dawns are old.

69

Now at last with glamour gone
I can see the naked dawn;
Gauge the gilded depths of noon,
Coolly question star and moon.

And where fired sunsets pale
I, who wear life's gray veil,
Shall not marvel, shall not care.
No light of earth's however fair,
Robbed of the sting of its surprise,
Can delude my sober eyes.

LONELINESS

Sometimes when I am long alone
I wonder what is loneliness
This silence like a deep bell's tone
These moments, motionless?

This hush above the nervous street? ~
Removed as is the tree that stands,
Hill-high, with burrowing root-feet
And boughs like reaching hands.

As in my blood I feel life press,
Like sap into the frailest bough,
I think if such is loneliness
Then I am lonely now.

Contemporary Verse Hazel Hall

70

REPETITIONS

I plunge at the rearing hours-
Life is a steed of pride,,

Who so high above me towers
I cannot mount and ride.

TWO

The wind is sewing with needles of rain;
With shining needles of rain
It stitches into the thin
Cloth of earth in,
In, in, in.

(Oh, the wind has often sewed with meJ
two, three,)

Spring must have fine things

To wear, like other springs.

Of silken green the grass must be

Embroidered. (One and two and three.)

Then every crocus must be made

So subtly as to seem afraid

Of lifting color from the ground*

And after crocuses the round

Heads of tulips, and all the fair

Intricate garb that Spring will wear

The wind must sew with needles of rain,

With shining needles of rain

Stitching into the thin

Cloth of earth in,

In, in, in

For all the springs of futurity.

(One, two, three.)

INSTRUCTION"

My hands that guide a needle
In their torn are led

Relentlessly and deftly,

As a needle leads a thread.

Other hands are teaching
My needle; when I sew

I feel the cool, thin finger*
Of hands I do not know*

They urge my needle onward,
They smooth my seams,, until

The worry of my stitches
Smothers in their skill.

All the tired women.,

Who sewed their lives away,
Speak in my deft fingers

As I sew today.

THREE SONGS FOR SEWING

I

A fibre of rain on a window-pane

Talked to a stitching thread:
In ike heaviest weather I hold together

The weight of a cloud!

To the fibre of rain on a window-pane

The talkative stitches said:
/ hold together with the weight of a feather

The heaviest shroud!

72

My needle says: Don't be young,

Holding visions in your eyes,
Tasting laughter on your tongue !

Be very old and very wise,
And sew a good seam up and down
In white cloth, red cloth, blue and brown.

My needle says: What is youth

But eyes drunken with the sun,
Seeing farther than the truth;

Lips that call, hands that shun
The many seams they have to do
In white cloth, red cloth, brown and blue!

HI

One by one, one by one,
Stitches of the hours run

Through the fine seams of the day ;
Till like a garment it is done

And laid away.

One by one the days go by,

And suns climb up and down the sky;

One by one their seams are run
As Time's untiring ngers ply

And life is done.

COWARDICE

Discomfort sweeps my quiet, as a wind

Leaps at trees and leaves them cold and thinned.

Not that I fear again the mastery

Of winds, for holding my indifference dear

I do not feel illusions stripped from me.

And yet this is a fear

78

A fear of old discarded fears, of days

That cried out at irrevocable ways.

I cower for my own old cowardice

For hours that beat upon the wind's broad breast

With hands as impotent as leaves are: this

Robs my new hour of rest.

I thought my pride had covered long ago
All the old scars, like broken twigs in snow ;
I thought to luxuriate in rich decay,
As some far-seeing tree upon a hill;
But, startled into shame for an old day,
I find that I am but a coward still.

PLASH

I am less of myself and more of the sun;
The beat of life is wearing me
To an incomplete oblivion,
Yet not to the certain dignity
Of death. (They cannot even die
Who have not lived.)

The hungry jaws

Of space snap at my unlearned eye,
And time tears in my flesh like claws.

If I am not life's, if I am not death's,
Out of chaos I must re-reap
The burden of untasted breaths.
(Who has not waked may not yet sleep.)

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Hazel Hall

BORASAN

In the desert near Khotan
Lie the bones of Borasan.
Once its roofs were red and blue
Where the pear and poplar grew;
Once where river barges rode
Bainbow stuffs of barter glowed,
Peacock plumes and scarlet wool,
Silver fish from Kara-Kill,
Apricots and carven jades,
Mills for prayer, beaten blades.
Mounded now are sands above
Buried barter^ buried love,
Only winds that burrow deep
Tumble sunward from their sleep
Bings engreened upon the bone,
Buddhas smiling in blue stone,
Coins, combs, toys, the dust of vases,
Walls the restless sand effaces.

Men with sword and torch and shout
Did not blot that city out.
Men were sand to pass and pass,
Gleam and shadow, through her glass.

Buddha begging with a bowl
Spread the white peace of his soul.

Eyes beneath a shading hand,
Gazing eastward over sand,
Alexander, desert-burned,
Dreamed, and looked his fill, and turned.

Westward riding Ghengis Khan

Stopped to ask of Borasan

Seven asses heaped with pearls,

Meat and millet, fifty girls.

These he got, and did not stay. , . .

75

Marco Polo went this way . . .

Over tundras, God-enticed,

Priars crept to preach their Christ. . .

Still the camels through the gates

Coughed beneath their swaying freights;

Brown-legged boatmen from the stream

Made the palace parrots scream,

Till the peach and melon land

Shrank between the seas of sand,

Till the sand was drifted, drifted,

Slowly through the poplars sifted,

Beached at last the river's edge,

Slowly builded bar and ledge,

Till the crystal ribbon dried

To a crystal thread, and died,

And the green of melon plots

And the gold of apricots

Sank like sunlight into sand

Till the wind upheaved the land,

And the earth, that mothered man,

Whelmed him there in Borasan.

Northward still the river runs

Unsubdued by sand or suns,

Northward still the poplars press

On its living loveliness.

Here the reeds are tall in spring,

Wild geese mate and finches sing,

Here the shepherds drive their sheep,

Build themselves for shade and sleep

Huts of woven reeds, and make

Out of maize a simple cake.

How to bake and herd and shear,

That is all of knowledge here.

Once perhaps their fathers knew

Pointed roofs of red and blue,

76

Once with millstones crushed their maize,
Baked them tiles to pave their ways,
Ate from silver, drank from glass
All is lost in sand, alas I

Is it so? Did thousands die

When the buran lifted high

Desert dunes to storm their doors,

Slaying through the streets and floors?

Crept a few at length to light

Through those days the sand made night,

Wild with wind, and beasts that ran

Screaming out of Borasan?

Did they crawl they knew not where,

Wear away from what they were,

Rudely learn to live again,

Rived from trade and art and men ?

All they gathered, all they knew,

Did it die as raindrops do,

Leaving only maize and sheep,

Toil and huts of reed and sleep ?

Back again where life began

Grope thy people, Borasan ?

The Measure Frank Ernest Hill

UPPER AIR

High, pale, imperial places of slow cloud

And windless wells of sun-swept silence . . . Sense

Of some aware, half scornful permanence

Past which we flow like water that is loud

A moment 'gainst the granite. Nothing here

Beats to the quick deed that we left below,

That was a flame; this is the soul of snow

Immortalized in moveless atmosphere.

Yet we shall brood upon this haunt of wings
When love, like perfume washed away in rain,
Dies in the years. Still we shall tuwi &gain,
Seeking the clouds as we have sought the sea,
Asking the peace of these immortal things
That will not miy -with our mortality.

The New Republic Frank Ernest Hill

TO ROBINSON CRUSOE

So to be loved and listened to and touched

By crowds of moist-fingered little folks

With eyes of wonder who would save his life

And hug an English hearth for seventy years,

When to be shipwrecked is to lire forever?

You thought you were dead to the world, but you

were wrong,

Old Crusoe, when you bobbed up on that isle
Of curious creatures waiting to be tamed,
And lonely footprints waiting for a friend.
Dreaming of cobbled streets you fought your way
Alone, and built your little brave stockade;
Sick for a roof in England, long 1 dumb hours
You smoked your pipe out by your unshared fire;
You thought that all was over, never guessed
You were piling years up, looking to the days
When little children would not let you die!

Smith's Magazine Marie low&e Hersey

78

GAMESTERS ALL

The river boat had loitered down its

The ropes were coiled, and business for the daj

Was done. The cruel noon closed slowly down

And cupped the streaming town.

Stray voices called across the blinding heat,

Then drifted off to shadowy retreat

Among the sheds. The waters of the bay

Sucked away

In tepid swirls

As listless as the day.

Silence closed about me like a wall

Final and obstinate as death.

Until I longed to break it with a call,

Or barter life for one deep, windy breath.

A mellow laugh came rippling

Across the stagnant air

Lifting it into little waves of life.

Then, true and clear,

I caught

A snatch of harmony;

Sure, lilting tenor and a drowsing bass,

Elusive chords that weave and interlace,

And poignant little minors broken short

Like robins calling June.

And then the tune:

"Oh, nobody knows when de Lord am goin* ter call,

Roll dem bones.

It may be in de Summer time an may be in de Fall,

Roll dem bones.

But yer got ter leabe yer baby an yer home an all.

So, roll dem bones

Oh, my brudder,

Oh, my brudder,

Oh, my brudder,

Roll dem bones."

79

There they squatted,

Gambling away

Their meagre pay,

Fatalists all.

I heard the muted fall

Of dice, then the assured

Retrieving sweep of hand on roughened board.

I thought it good to see

Four lives so free

From care; so indolently sure of each tomorrow,

And hearts attuned to sing away a sorrow.

Then, like a shot,

Out of the hot,

Still air, I heard a caU.

"Throw up your hands,

I've got you all.

It's thirty days for gambling.

Come Tony, Paul.

Now Joe don't be a fool.

I've got you cool.'*

I saw his eyes and knew he'd never go;

Not Joe,

The strongest hand in River Bow.

Springing from where he sat, straight, cleanly made.

He soared, a leaping shadow, from the shade

With fifty feet to go.

It was the stiffest hand he ever played.

To win the corner meant

Deep, sweet content

Among his laughing kind.

To lose; to suffer blind,

Degrading slavery upon "The gang."

And killing suns, and fever ridden nights

Behind relentless bars

Of prison cars.

80

He hung a breathless second in the sun,

The staring road before him; then like one

Who stakes his all, and has a gamester's heart,

His laughter flashed.

He lunged.

I gave a start.

God, "what a man!

The massive shoulders hunched, and, as he ran,

With head held low, and splendid length of limb,

I almost felt the beat

Of passionate life that surged in him

And winged his spurning feet.

And then my eyes went dim:

The marshal's gun was out.

I saw the grim,

Short barrel, and his face

Aflame with the excitement of the chase.

He was an honest sportsman, as they go;

He never shot a doe,

Or spotted fawn,

Or partridge on the ground.

And as for Joe

He'd wait until he had a yard to go,

Then, if he missed, he'd laugh and call it square.

My gaze lept to the corner, waited there.

And now an arm would reach it, I saw hope flare

Across the runner's face.

Then, like a pang
In my own heart,
The pistol rang.

The form I watched soared forward,

Swung the curve. "By God, you've missed/*

The marshal shook his head.

No, there he lay, face downward in the road.

"I reckon he was dead

Before he hit the ground/*

81

The marshal said.
"Just once at fifty feet;
A moving target too.
That's just about as good
As any man could do.
A little tough;
But since he ran
I call it fair enough."

He mopped his head and started down the road.
The silence eddied around him, turned and flowed
Softly back, and pressed against the ears,
Until unnumbered flies set it to droning,
And, down the heat, I heard a woman moaning.

Contemporary Verse DuBose Heyward

FRANCISCO PIZARRO

"Desperate, my men, are our straits.

Natives with vemon-pointed darts harass us.

Hunger draws taut our fevered skins.

Disaster, ever-renewed, makes us its mock.

Death bends and breaks our serried ranks.

All cause is there for grim despair:

Yet, since you be Spaniards, despair not.

I sail this very day for Hispaniola

There to hasten necessary succor.

Lest it be said that we, like cowards,

Abandoned under stress our chosen course

I shall leave, of you all, seventy here,

Nay, until I be finished, murmur not.

I appointed in my absence as Governor, Francisco

Pizarro,
Knowing you believe, my men, in the courage that is

his.

83

And more, lest you doubt of my returning,

I shall leave, under your charge, all gold.

Remain faithful unto your post;

Remain faithful unto your leader;

Then, if in fifty days I be not come again,

Take as your own the two small brigantines

And depart, with duty done, wheresoever you list,

This I say but as a last precaution,

For, shall I not return to you?

Trust me ! forget not God ! be true !"

Thus spoke to his soldiers Alonzo de Ojeda

Governor, in the King's name, of Neuva Andalusia,

Brave man^ incompetent leader, ill-fated,

Thus spoke he from the parapet of San Sebastian

And with the coming of the night had sailed away,

Never, despite his promise, to return.

Pizarro, stalwart of body, steady of mind,

One who kept and kept it well his own counsel,

One cruel, severe, determined,

One who was obeyed yet shrunk from,

Commanded, as Ojeda had behested, in his stead.

No tyro's negligent office his !

Food, by hook or crook, must be obtained;

Dissatisfaction and mutiny quelled;

Attack by night and day to be repulsed.

Silence and heat, and hunger,

And all about the small stockade

The inward pressing of the circling jungle

Save where, a strip of bhie, a strip of hope, the sea !

God ! how they grew to fear that forest,

Heavy, and green, and menace haunted,

A dark impenetrable wall of vegetation,

Twisted trunks, twisted vines, and twisted shadows,

Wherein lurked horror and the horror of horror !

Arrows, furtive-winged and poison-pointed

Would rise as rise startled birds,

Curve up a moment in skyey flight,

Then, with long-drawn sibilant sighs,

Rush to claim the poor unwary, earthward.

Jungle, and sea, and canescent sun,

And the labored passage of the days 1

"Are we fools/' they cried, "still to wait?

Twenty, thirty, forty days have passed 1

Still no white sail peaks the bine]

Death and starvation claim us one by one!

Let us, ere it be too late, depart 1"

But wait they did, even the fifty days,

Eestrained to duty by the grim Pizarro,

A man they hated, admired, feared,

Yet a man, they obeyed.

And when at last the time for their release

"Now/* swore they, "by Christ 1 we shall depart!"

And would straighway have rushed pell-mell

Upon the two small, anchored brigantines

Had not, with imperative gesture, Pizarro stayed them,

"You are," his level voice arraigned, "truly fools' !

Else, long since, had you made your count

And found those tiny cockle-shells of boats

Incapable by half of carrying the whole of you !"

They hesitated; they examined; they confirmed.

With desperate eyes ablaze with fear;

With hands and feet that shook in ague;

With lips grown dryer far than dry ;

They surged them back to where Pizarro stood,

Gating, seemingly impassive, across the sea.

"It is,** they moaned, "even as you say !

Who shall go and who, alas, shall stay?

Ah, Mother of God, what plight is ours!"

Looking with eyes untenanted by emotion

Upon the men gone, like a flook of sheep, afraid

"There is a way/* he said, "to make decision

Of who shall go and who shall stay.

There is a way, were you men!"

And the pitiful things with blood-shot eyes,

With white lips edging whiter teeth,

With bony, tremulous talon-hands,

Replied, as in a whisper, "We be men !

And Pizarro, master of himself and them,

84

Seemed, in the moveless clarity of sunlight,

Some epic god directing destiny.

"So," he answered, "since you affirm yourselves as

men

I shall inform you of the one and only way,
Fair to all and partial, in the end, to none,
Whereby may be chosen among us all
Those who shall go and those who shall stay !
Once more, I ask you: be you men?"
"Aye," croaked they, "we be men 1"
"Then" and here his voice rose, dominant
"In this place and on this spot shall we remain
Until death, impartial, has weeded us,
Those who shall go from those who shall stay!"
"Those who shall go from those who shall stay!"
Echoed, in toneless notes, the broken men:
And "Those who shall go from those who shall stay !"
Reechoed eerily the whispering jungle.
Then, like an accolade of doom, fell silence
Enfolding avidly unto its inscrutable self,
Forest, and sea, and depthless sky,
And those bowed of head, stooped of shoulder,
Standing, muted and motionless,
Before one who, with hand aloft, rendered judgment.

The Budget Arthur C. Inman

THE COBBLER IN THE MOON

i

Cobbler, cease your stitching!

Put down your awl !
I've long been waiting

Before your stall.

Cobbler, cease your pegging!

Who pays your wage?
And whose the ugly^

Dry shoes of Age?

I have shoes for mending;

A patch or two
Will make them nearly

As good as new.

Mine too worn for patching?

It cannot be
The shoes just finished

Were made for me?

ii

Time went dancing down the road

Yesterday ;
It was sweet to watch Time dance

On her way.

Not one sigh was in my heart !

How could I
.Know that when to-morrow came

I should cry?

in

Joy came winging down to me,
A brown, song-throated bird,

But on a honeyed tree's dark branch
A scarlet note was heard.

Joy was singing, soft and low,

A tender little lay,
But, oh, my ears were deafened by

The scarlet note that day !

86

IV

Once I cried a little cry,

Nor wiped the tears away;
And bitter was the taste of them

The long, long day.

Oh, but that was long ago !

To-day I sit apart
And smile and watch young laughter run

About my heart !

I cannot bear to hear the grasses sing!

Their tiny fingers press the notes of grief
Where apple blossoms pinkly sway and swing

And nod to each uncurling, greening leaf.

I cannot bear to hear the grasses sing!

Nor watch them tiptoe on the sun-sweet groundj
For, oh, I know how their small hands will cling

Upon the earth that is my body's mound!

VI

If I am quiet, when the twilight comes,

My dead love I will see;
Like breathless whisper in a lilac bloom

My love will come to me.

If I am quiet, all the lapis night,

My love will be my guest;
But, oh, that she may never touch my hand

Nor lean against my breast!

VII

My feet are shod in golden shoes,

That glimmer in the sun,
With lacings made of sweet delight

And laughter's fun.

87

The soles so studded are with nails

That press up, prick and pry,
I can but sit still in a chair

And softly cry!

SChe Conservative Winifred Virginia JacJcson

FINALITY

The farm was lonely, set so far

Back from the town;
If neighbors came, he*d rant and rave

If they sat down.

And when they went he forced upon

Her hateful thought,
And nagged; made ugly use of words

With meaning fraught.

Her hack was bent with work she'd done

Beyond her strength;
For he planned more than she could do

In each day's length.

The days seemed all alike to her

Until, one day,
She found a blue bird, maimed in wing,

So bright and gay

She loved it, cared for it, and soon

The bird loved her;
When he came, she would hide it and

It would not stir.

One noon he came and caught her with

The bird in play;
He killed it right before her in

A fearful way.

88

A neighbor came, to ask about

A plough, that night ;
He never could forget that strange

And awful sight.

She'd used the kitchen knife on him ,

And he was dead;
She sat, a bruised and battered thing

From feet to head,

And hummed a little song, or spoke

A tender word,
And tried to make blue feathers stay

Upon a bird/

Tlie Conservative Winifred Virginia Jackson

THE TRICKSY TUNE

The Hired Man Speaks:

"He never spoke a civil word

To her; it was his rule
To snarl or shout; his best -for her

Was 'Mooncalf, dolt an' -fool!' 9 '

The Story:

The house was built back from the Road;

It stood there grim and gray
And silent, 'mid great aspen trees

That quivered night and day.

The Road was narrow; old stone walls

Arose on either side
Begrudging from the farm the land

The roadbed had to gride.

89

And she had lived with him and drudged

For over twenty years;
He drove her on, from harrowing

To breaking in the steers.

At first when she was called a fool,

A hurt look dulled her eyes,
And she would slip off by herself

And have her little cries.

But once he caught her; after that

She never dared to cry;
The days seemed all alike to her

That wearily went by*

And often, when he snarled and cursed,

She played a little game;
She tried to make believe that he

Had called her some sweet name.

Then one day came a tricksy tune
That hummed within her head;

In spite of all that she could do
It held the words he said.

She heard the song and shuddered at
Its "Fool, dolt, fool, dolt, fool!"

The while she gripped her hard, worn hands
And drabber looked and cool.

And this kept up for weeks; she worked

With hope to still the song
By weariness ; it sometimes went away

But would not stay for long.

When evening came, he sat about

The kitchen while she rid
The sink of dishes, nagging her

Through everything she did.

90

And then he'd go to sleep and snore.

Sprawled in the rocking chair;
The light shone on his long, gray beard

And bristling, grizzly hair.

And so he lolled ; she mended, darned,

The while she scarce could see;
The song beat time within her head

That ached unceasingly.

A day came harder than the rest;

He snarled at her and raved,
And of the nagging words he knew

There was no word he saved.

And night came with the supper ; w ash

Of dishes in the sink;
And afterwards his snores ; her song;

She ceased to try to think.

The Hired Man Speaks:

* f l -found him crooked upon the -floor;

The ax was sharp, for he
Had sharpened it that day an* whet

It sharp as it could be.

JShe didn't notice me; she sat

As white's a sheet, "but cool,
An* hummed a song: the words wan't much,

Jest, 'Mooncalf, dolt an' fool.'"'

The Conservative Winifred Virginia Jaclcson

EYES

jWhen life is very lonely

I clojse my eyes and go
Across a field and up a hill,

A way I know;

And there I find a garden

With a little house in it,
And both are wistful whispering,

"Come in and sit!"

Then you come, always singing,
On down the garden's walk,

And we, in white front doorway, stand
And softly talk.

I often light a candle,

In my small sittings-room,
To show you some new picture or

A bit of bloom.

And all our time together

You love as much as I:
But, oh, my open eyes that watch

You passing

The Conservative Winifred Virginia Jackson

DEAFNESS

Wall-mountain rimmed around the sky

And bellied down, a bowl
With chipped and crackled edge; the farm

Dropped in like leaf-lopped cole.

92

Scrub trees crouched low on mountainside,

Their fingers locked and bared
Dp on black rocks ; at base great spruce

Stood close and leaned and stared.

The house, with up-curled shingles, hugged

The ground, a silent thing,
Like a gray bird squatting on its perch

In a cage, and cannot sing,

she went up to bake for him,
To tend the house and such,
His deafness was a sorry chafe
She pitied overmuch.

A. day came when he ceased to speak;

She did not care, for he
Was far more ugly in his speech

Than there was need to be.

But when the long days dragged on by

Without a word from him,
The crumbs of peace fell from her mind

As leaves drop from a limb.

\.t first she zigzagged in her mind
"Twixt old Hen Levy's Place

his: she knew Four Corners brooked
No showing of her face.

then she planned shrill words to shriek
To stab his deafness through;

he would watch, with cunning eye,
Her stirred mind's boil and brew.

Then slyly he would egg her on:

He'd 1 cup his ear with hand,
The while her throat rasped hoarse with words

She hoped he's understand.

93

In summer loneliness was lulled

By birds that came to sing;
An old black creaker^ by the door,

Was always a friendly thing.

Slim poplars grew close to the barn

And whispered all day long ;
The Plymouth Rocks scratched in their shade

And cackled or made song.

But in the winter when the jays

Sat shrieking, limb to- limb,
It seemed somehow that he must hear;

That she must talk with him.

And when a lone, lean crow would light

Upon a fire-stubbed pine,
It seemed a black thought from her heart,

That blurred her brain like wine.

One day a stormj drove down; the wind

Banked snow in drifts on f arm,
Encircling, with one deep drift,

The house like a gripping arm.

She shoveled a path from house to barn ;

The cattle must be fed:
He let them go a day and night

At her plea shook his head.

The crow came to the barn that night;

She took care of the cat ;
The crow, on top-loft ladder's round,

In brooding silence sat.

When Sunday came the storm had cleared.

Some city folks snow-shoed
Through Toby's Gap to Brimmer's Place,

And one of them, a dude,

94

Was cold, and knocked upon the door;

When no one answered, he
Just turned the knob and went on in

To see what he could see.

Old Aaron sat, bound in a chair ;

His face was snarled with fear;
His hair cut ofTn him quite close;

His throat cut, ear to ear.

She sat in a rocker, muttering,

A-waggling of her head ;
But when she saw the dude, she rose:

"He heard! He spoke!" she said.

The Conservative Winifred Virginia Jackson

HOOFIN' IT

Pork an'
Beans an

Apple pie!
Doughnuts,
Swagen,

By Gor-ri!
We'll hit
Great Pond

By an' "by I

I am but a river hog,
River hog, river hog!

I am but a river hog

Hoofin* it to Great Pond!

Ellsworth is a meachin* town,
Sick* em town, lick'em town,

Ellsworth is a meachin' town,
Ring-a-round-a-rosy !

95

Ellsworth has a pretty pound,
Pretty pound, pretty pound,

-Ellsworth has a pretty pound
Pin on me a posy!

Waltham has no use or us,

Use for us, use for us;
Waltham has no use for us

When our heads are groggy!

They wun't give us feather beds,
Feather beds, feather beds ;

They wun't give us feather beds
No, we bunk with hoggy !

K-J he don't give a damn,
Give a damn, give a damn;

K-J he don't give a damn
If in hell we're seated 1

Great Pond's miles an" miles away,
Miles away, miles away;

Great Pond's miles an* miles away
But the soup is heated !

K- J's waitin' there for us,
There for us, there for us ;

K-J's waitin' there for us
He's a damn good- fellow!

K- J makes us pick our shirts,

Pick our shirts, pick our shirts,

K-J makes us pick our shirts
Makes us work O hell-o !

I am but a river hog,

River hog, river hog,
I am but a river hog

Hoofin* it to Great Pond!

96

Pork an 9
"Beans an'

Apple pie!
Doughnuts,
Swagen.

By Gor-ri!
We'll hit
Great Pond

J$y an' by!

The Conservative Winifred Virginia Jackson

THE PURCHASE

Once, on a gold May morning,
As I walked through a town,

I met a Merchant crying,

"One white, one purple gown!"

He stopped me, swift demanding,
"Which will you have of me?

This white is yours for nothing!
This purple thalers three!"

"I'll take from you, Old Merchant,
The gown for which I pay!"

I gayly donned the garment
And went my careless way!

The skies grew dark and darker ;

A fog "brought mystery;
Beside me stalked black shadows

That pecked the heart of me !

I sought the wary Merchant;

He gave me but one look :
"Hope's robe was yours for nothing !

Despair's was what you took !"

The Conservative Wimfred Virginia Jackson

97

JAPANESE NIGHT-SONG

The shadow of a heron's wing is on the water,
And the pines have drawn slim fingers
Across the moon.

Hush-
Breathe lightly, wind in the plum-tree!
Scatter your dreams
Like petals over her heart.

The Measure EUen Janson

"SHADOWY UNDER MY WINDOW' 5

Shadowy under my window

Your low reed sobs

Its desert love-song to the remembering stars.

Shadowy

All the night my breasts are lilies,

My lips are passion-flowers.

At dawn

I remember how gray sands have heaped

Upon your grave,

Wind-blown these thousand years.

The Measure Ellen Janson

THE CREATION

(A Negro Sermon)

And God stepped out on space,
And He looked around and said,
"I'm lonely
Pll make me a world."

98

And far as the eye of God could see
Darkness covered everything,
Blacker than a hundred midnights
Down in a cypress swamp.

Then God smiled,

And the light broke,

And the darkness rolled up on one side,

And the light stood shining on the other,

And God said, "That** good!"

Then God reached out and took the light in His hands,

And God rolled the light around in His hands

Until He made the sun;

And He set the sun a-blazing in the heavens.

And the light that was left from making the sun

God gathered it up in a shining ball

And flung it against the darkness,

Spangling the night with the moon and stars.

Then down between

The darkness and the light

He hurled the world;

And God said, "That's good!"

Then God himself stepped down
And the sun was on His right hand,
And the moon was on His left ;
The stars were clustered above His head,
And the earth was under His feet.
And God walked, and where He trod
His footsteps hollowed the valleys out
And bulged the mountains up.
Then He stopped and looked and saw
That the earth was hot and barren.
So God stepped over to the edge of the world
And He spat out the seven seas;
*He batted His eyes, and the lightnings flashed ;
He clapped His hands, and the thunders rolled ;
And the waters above the earth came down,
The cooling waters came down.

99

Then the green grass sprouted,

And the litle red flowers blossomed,

The pine tree pointed his finger to the sky,

And the oak spread out his arms,

The lakes cuddled down in the hollows of the ground,

And the rivers ran down to the sea;

And God smiled again,

And the rainbow appeared,

And curled itself around His shoulder.

Then God raised His arm and He waved His hand

Over the sea and over the land,

And He said, "Bring forth! Bring forth!"

And quicker than God could drop His hand,

Fishes and fowls,

And beasts and birds

Swam the rivers and the seas,

Roamed the forests and the woods,

And split the air with their wings.

And God said, "That's good!"

Then God walked around,

And God looked around

On all that He had made.

He looked at His sun,

And He looked at His moon,

And He looked at His little stars;

He looked on His world

With all its living things,

And God said, "I'm lonely still."

Then God sat down

On the side of a hill where He could think;

By a deep wide river He sat down;

With His head in His hands,

God thought and thought,

Till He thought, "III make me a man!"

100

Up from the bed of the river

God scooped the clay;

And by the bank of the river

He knelt Him down;

And there the great God Almighty,

Who lit the sun and fixed it in the sky,

Who flung the stars to the most far corner of the night,

Who rounded the earth in the middle of His hand ;

This Great God,,

Like a mammy bending over her baby,

Kneeled down in the dust

Toiling over a lump of clay

Till He shaped it in His own image;

Then into it He blew the breath of life,
And man became a living soul.
Amen, Amen.

The Freeman James Weldon Johnson

COSMOS FLOWERS

Grey clouds, with sudden lakes of blue
A mournful, monotonous wind like wailing women
And against the crumbling wall
Hundreds of cosmos flowers,
Startling, leopard-like, sensual,
Wave on their stalks of feathery green;
And above them the purple morning-glories,
A blare of glorious trumpets,
Cling to the yellowing wall;
And a negro, his torn white shirt
Eevealing in jarred tears his ebony skin,
The gleaming muscles, the cat-like, strong
Animal body, labors on crooked knees,
Clearing the autumn garden of twigs and the flying
leaves. . . .

101

Scheherazade!
Scheherazade!

The cosmos flowers, my Dove,

Are as thine enticing eyes, and the slender grace of

their stems

Thy languid body that leans and sways and allures,
Weary of telling thy tales and glad of illicit love,
Scheherazade, soul of the cosmos flower!

Behold, in thy chamber, above the fountain fall,
The hidden silver fingers of women sound on Intes,
Chanting from latticed recesses
Surahs out of Al Koran, the Wisdom of God;
Thy companions, in blue trousers,
, One by one steal away to hidden rooms
Where slaves or lovers await to embrace them all night

long;

And at thy command the glistening negroes come,
Bare of breast, and turbanned in white, with trays
Of coloured sherbets, and dates, and lemons, and

sweets,

And a eunuch walks at their head,
Grave and useless to thee, O Moon, for love, whose

master

Is hunting to-day the lion, but I, O Delight,
Thy slave, the Gardener's Son, in blue and gold
Lie beside thee upon the tiger skins,
Eager for love and knowing to-morrow I die,

Scheherazade!
Scheherazade!

Fate is fate, O My Soul!

Thy moon-like eyes, thy thin, sweet eyebrows, the

breasts

Hid and revealed by thy silken vests, the alluring
Mouth, the tapering nails, and the slippered feet
Save only to-day are dust, but the cosmos flower

102

Blooms forever, and ever the shrill-voiced singers
Chant that Allah is Allah, and man is as rain and dust.
Yield to me theref ore, Pomegranate Flower ! Thy lips
Are heavy with love, thine eyes are riddles, thine hair
Hath woven the night about thy face, its moon !
And eunuch and slave and the throbbing tambourines
And the dancing girls and thy master, O Star, are

dreams,
And only the Gardener's Son with the close-cropped

golden hair,

And thou, Beloved, we two together and love,
Only these three abide, but abide for a moment, and

go.

Scheherazade!
Scheherazade!

The Freeman Howard Mumford Jonet

OH, WHEN I DIE

The poet names his burial-stead.

That string is frayed by long-stilled hands.
And few, I guess, have the bed

Their half -forgotten verse demands.

To worn string and futile plea
Listen awhile: when I am dead
After all, bury me

Underneath an Apple Tree.

Underneath an Apple Tree
Let the grim roots work their will
Grip, suck, strain, distil.
The debtor's body for the debt,

For all the happily heavy score
Of many a revel, against me set

Plain on the Orchard Tavern's door.

103

What path of mine but knows my debt?

How far apart my cores were thrown I
Town, meadow^ peak, shore,

Road, trail, wayside stone,
Hearth, desk, even bed
(Shudder, Prissy) knew my needs,
And not a core but showed the seeds.

Milk and honey, wine and bread!

Wherefore, in the Roman way

Deal with him who cannot pay
The debtor's body for the debt:

After all, bury me

(If that is all, and this is me)

Underneath an Apple Tree.

There is more, as I think:
When I am done with meat and drink
Such as beasts have, there shall be
Other Apples waiting me

No bodiless ghost can eat of them,
So I shall haunt my burial-tree

Until the first spring-noon is warm :
My body's master-essences

Shall climb through bole and branch and stem,

Slip through soft blossom-throats, and form
About me, at command. How far,
I wonder, those bright Other Orchards are?

Contemporary Verse Wtlliam Laird

THE TOO HIGH

That bird in the maple next my eaves,

Last bud-break of May,
At faintest of first dawn, one perceives,
Loved in his rapture of life and leaves

As I love to-day.

104.

His heart was so full of it, his throat

Could scarce, at first, free

The song, that took fire, climbed, note by note,
Neared heaven, came short, turned sad, fell remote

Lay still. So with me.

Harper's Magazine Benjamin R. C. Low

THE HOUSE WITH THE MARBLE STEPS

He built the house to show his neighbors
That decent thrift could lead to this,
A giddy reason for his labors,
A bright brick apothesis.

He was not one to be bulldozed

By sentiment, and he had planned

Past whispered sneers when he foreclosed

The mortgage on this very land.

He'd forced his way with prudent greed
While they at best remained the same.
He gauged the folly of a creed
Which keeps a lame purse always lame.

Well, here it was, and in the road
He stood and tallied beam and rafter.
The cost would be a heavy load
He'd tell you, twisting into laughter.

The window-edges were of stone,
A soapy limestone smooth and fair.
The floors were all hard wood and none
Tailed off to pine beneath a stair.

105

If he were old and quite infirm,

His house was very fresh and young,

And envy is a winding worm

These thoughts were pepper to his tongue.

And so he watched it grow and grow,
And jotted down the things he heard,
Scheming to balance by the blow
His house should deal as final word.

To crown the whole and go beyond

Whatever yet had been attempted.

In his small town, he signed a bond

Which would most certainly have emptied:

The pockets of quite half his friends,
Even to him it was a point,
But when a man aims at such ends
He must keep stiff in every joint.

He bought a quarry's good half year
Of first-class, fine-grained marble output,
He paid a mason very near
As much again to have it cut.

The sharp .white polished steps were grand
Descending from the stucco porch.
They glittered like a marching band,
They mounted upward like a torch*

But he had taken to his bed
Before the last was set in place,
And one week later he was dead
With a slow smile upon his face.

The marble flashed beneath the fall
Of undertakers* feet who carried
His coffin to the funeral
Within the house. And there he tarried

106

For fifteen minutes more or less,
And "dust to dust" they read above him.
Now who had gained in bitterness
For not one soul was there to love him?

They gaped upon the shining floors,

Their eyes scanned ceiling heights and blocked them.

When all was done, they shut the doors

And shrugged their shoulders as they locked them.

The house is charming now with weeds
Sprung all about, the steps are mellow
With little grass and flower-seeds
Drifting across their sun-stained yellow.

Empty it stands and so has stood
More years than the town clerk can tell.
No legend has it he was good,
No tale reports that he did well.

They tried to sell it, off and on,

But not a person wants to buy,

Though visitors who've come and gone

Remember it against the sky

In shrewd and sweet proportions glowing

Above a flight of marble steps where grass is growing.

The New Republic Amy Lowell

TEXAS

I went a-riding, a-riding,

Over a great long plain,

And the plain went a-sliding, a-sliding

Away from my bridle-rein.

107

Fields of cotton, and fields of wheat,

Thunder-blue gentians by a wire fence,

Standing cypress, red and tense,

Holding its flower rigid like a gun,

Dressed for parade by the running wheat,

By the little bouncing cotton. Terribly sweet

The cardinals sing in the live-oak trees,

And the long plain breeze,

The prairie breeze,

Blows across from swell to swell

With a ginger smell.

Just ahead where the road curves round,

A long-eared rabbit makes a bound

Into a wheat-field, into a cotton-field,

His track glitters after him and goes still again

Over to the left of my bridle-rein.

But over to the right is a glare glare glare

Of sharp glass windows,

A narrow square of brick jerks thickly up above the
cotton plants,

A raucous mercantile thing flaring the sun from thirty-
six windows,

Brazenly declaring itself to the lovely fields.

Tram-cars run like worms about the feet of this thing,

The coffins of cotton-bales feed it,

The threshed wheat is its golden blood.

But here it has no feet,

It has only the steep ironic grin of its thirty-six
windows,

Only its basilisk eyes counting the fields,

Doing sums or how many buildings to a city, all day
and all night.

Once they went a-riding, a-riding,

Over the great long plain,

Cowboys singing to their dogey steers,

Cowboys perched on forty-dollar saddles,

Riding to the North, six months to get there,

108

Six months to reach Wyoming,

"Hold up, paint horse, herd the little dogies,

Over the lone prairie."

Bones of dead steers,

Bones of cowboys,

Under the wheat, maybe.

The sky-scraper sings another way,

A tune of steel, of wheels, of gold.

And the ginger breeze blows all day

Tanged with flowers and mold.

And the Texas sky whirls down, whirls down,

Taking long looks at the fussy town.

An old sky and a long plain

Beyond, beyond, my bridle-rein.

The New Republic Amy Lowell

FLUTE-PRIEST SONG FOR RAIN

Ceremonial at the Sun Spring

Whistle under the water,

Make the water bubble to the tones of the flute.

I call the bluebirds' song into the water :

Wee-kee ! Wee-kee-kee !

Dawn is coming,

The morning star shines upon us.

Bluebird singing to the West clouds,

Bring the humming rain.

Water-rattles shake,

Flute whistles,

Star in Heaven shines.

I blow the oriole's song,

The yellow song of the North.

I call rain clouds with my rattles:

Wee-kee-kee, oriole.

Pattering rain.

109

To the South I blow my whistle,
To the red parrot of the South I call.
Send red lightning,
Under your wings
The forked lightning.
Thunder-rattles whirl
To the sky waters.
Fill the springs.
The water is moving.
Wait-
Whistle to the East
With a magpie voice.
Wee-kee ! Wee-kee-kee !
Call the storm-clouds
That they come rushing.
Call the loud rain.

Why does it not come?

Who is bad?

Whose heart is evil?

Who has done wickedness?

I weep,

I rend my garments,

I grieve for the sin which is in this place.

My flute sobs with the voice of all birds in the water.

Even to the six directions I weep and despair.

Come, O winds, from the sides of the sky,

Open your bird-beaks that rain may fall down.

Drench our fields, our houses.

Fill the land

With tumult of rain.

The Dial T Amy Lowett

110

A RHYME OUT OF MOTLEY

"I grasped a thread of silver; it cut me to the bone-
I reached for an apple; it was bleak as a stone
I reached for a heart, and touched a raw blade
And this was the bargain God had made
For a little gift of speech

Set a cubit higher than the common reach,
A debt running on until the fool is dead."

Carve a Pater Noster to put at his head
As a curse or a prayer,
And leave him there.

The Literary Review 'Amy Lowell

N. T. Evening Post

A GRAVE SONG

I've a pocketful of emptiness for you, my Dear.
I've a heart like a loaf was baked yesteryear,
I've a mind like ashes spilt a week ago,
I've a hand like a rusty, cracked corkscrew.

Can you flourish on nothing and find it good?

Can you make petrifaction do for food?

Can yon warm yourself at ashes on a stone?

Can you give my hand the cunning which has gone?

If you can, I will go and lay me down
And kiss the edge of your purple gown.
I will rise and walk with the sun on my head.
Will you walk with me, will you follow the dead?

The New Republic Amy Lowell

111

A PRAYER

Love us, Lord, but not too much.

Come thou near, yet not too near.
All thy laughing splendor spoils

What we daily see and fear,
What we bear, and do, and touch.
Love us still, but not too much.

Come thou near, Lord, not too near:
Let us breathe thee through our lips.

Even now I saw thy hue
In the maple's yellow tips,

When a leaf, so gay, so dear,

Fell but come thou not more near.

Let us breathe thee through our lips !

Do thou enter in our eyes !
Touch us that we not forget:

Make us simple still, and wise.
Circling us, thy finger slips
Let us breathe thee through our lips.

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Jessie MacDonald

THE VANISHED YEARS

I climb them step by step

The vanished years.

Stumbling, I pause to look below

Down wells of time, so black, so deep

Their waters keep

No sound,

Nor show a star,

Nor hold a memory.

II

Sometimes I kneel and look above

That dark stairway

At years to come;

My fingers clasp my fears,

Where my hopes go.

Up there beyond that last, gray step,

Afar,

Within that roof of mist,

What is that shape in flight,

Dim, strong and slow?

Ill

"A wing/* some say;
Some answer, "Love";
And some say, "Night
And sleep."
But I?
I do not know.

TJie Freeman Jeanette Marks

KEATS TO FANNY BRAWNE

Fanny! If in your arms my soul could slip

Arms that my love first fancied not the grave !

Cities of Hate and Madness round me rave;

And Love with anguished finger at the lip

Fares shelterless! These have my fellowship

Memory and Loneliness! What's left? To brave

Death! But before it Tragedy: not to crave

You changed or truly seen I The hemlock drip

Of rains upon half -lived or ruined springs,

Where you dance, smiling, numbs me now, and soothes

Hopes that once sought a beauty gone before.

Losses have stripped me ! But the vanishings

Of winter winds leave me to starry truths

Who once desired you, but desire no more!

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Edgar Lee Masters

113

TO AN INHABITANT OF PARADISE

How goes it in your star-lit ,world-
The silences, the brooding wood?
Does there the tiger hunt no more,
The falcon twitter for his hood?

Have you stripped all the boughs that talk
And calmed the torrents from the hill?
Are lamb and wolf now reconciled?
Is hunger banished from your sill?

Does that inexorable

Which drove us heedless face to f ace^

No longer burn along your veins

Or cut your new dispassionate grace?

Do you watch struggle unconcerned
Hear voices call you and not speak^
There in your timeless acres feel
Above your kinship with the weak?

Oh, guard the gates that shut you in!
Make sure the world behind your eyes!
My world of men and lust and wheels
Begins to march on Paradise.

The Yale Review Scudder Middleton

PASSER MORTUUS EST

Death devours all lovely things.

Lesbia with her sparrow
Shares the darkness. Presently

Every bed is narrow.

114

Unremembered as old rain,

Dries the sheer libation,,
And the little, petulant hand

Is an annotation.

After all, my erstwhile dear,

My no longer cherished,
Need we say it was not love,

Now that love is perished.

The Century Edna 8t. Vincent Millay

TO A POET THAT DIED YOUNG

Minstrel, what have you to do
With this man that after you
Sharing not your happy fate,
Sat at England's Laureate?
Vainly in these iron days
Strives the poet in your praise,
Minstrel, by whose singing side
Beauty walked, until you died.

Still, though none should hark again,
Drones the blue-fly in the pane,
Thickly crusts the blackest moss,
Blows the rose its musk across,
Floats the boat that is forgot
None the less to Camelot.

Many a bard's untimely death
Lends unto his verses breath;
Here's a song was never sung:
Growing old is dying young.
Minstrel, what is this to you:
That a man you never knew,
When your grave was fair and green,
Sat and gossiped with a queen?

115

Thalia knows how rare a thing
Is it, to grow old and sing.
When the brown and tepid tide
Closes in on every side;
Who shall say if Shelley's gold
Had withered it to grow old?

The New Republic Edna St. Vincent Millay

SONNET

I see so clearly now my similar years
Renew each other, shod in rusty black,
Like one hack following another hack
In meaningless procession, dry of tears

Driven empty, lest the noses, sharp as shears,
Of gutter urchins at a hearse's back
Should sniff a man died friendless, and attack
With silly scorn his deaf, triumphant ears

I see so clearly how my life must run,
One year behind another year, until
At length these bones that leap into the sun

Are lowered into the gravel and lie still,
I would at times the funeral were done
And I abandoned on the ultimate hill.

The Century Edna St. Vincent Millay

KEATS

When sometimes, on a moony night, IVe passed
A street-lamp, seen my doubled shadow flee,

I've noticed how much darker, clearer cast,
The full moon poured her silhouette of me.

116

Just so of spirits. Beauty's silver light
Limns with a purer ray, and tenderer too:

Men's clumsy gestures, to unearthly sight,

Surpass the shapes they show by human view.

On this brave world, where few such meteors fell,
Her youngest son, to save us, Beauty flung.

He suffered and descended into hell

And comforts still the ardent and the young.

Drunken of moonlight, dazed by draughts of sky,
Dizzy with stars, his mortal fever ran :

His utterance a moon-enchanted cry

Not free from folly for he too was man.

And now and here, a hundred years away,
Where topless towers shadow golden streets,

The young men sit, nooked in a cheap cafe,
Perfectly happy, . . talking about Keats.

TTie Bookman Christopher Morley

THE TAVERN OF THE FOOLS

I knew of an honest cleanly inn where men mudb

profit had,
And some came in from the roaring town, and some

from the roaring seas;
They talked in the open way of those who are not

too proud to be sad,
They sat in a ruddy ingle, at night, and took theii

ease.
For terrible is the sunlight that makes men fear to

be dead.
But comforting is the well-swept hearth that flickers

gold and gules,
And there men spoke withouten shame, and curious

words were said

Ungoaded by a clock they sat, in the Tavern of the
Fools.

117

Those men -were Fools; and each one bore some

secret foolish stain
Some were the Pools who loved the world and were

mocked for being kind.,
Some had twisted a golden life with quarrel and

peevish pain,
But all were doubtful, and all had left their

wisdom far behind.
And ah how heavenly (poor Fools!) to lay their

loads aside
And all, with simple courtesy, to take the word in

turn

And itemize their lack of wit but not in silly pride,
For when a Fool speaks modestly, then other Fools

can learn.

There was a Fool who dreamed a dream that Love

was always young,
There was a Fool whose habit was to turn the

other cheek;
There was a Fool whose eyes would shine when brave

old songs were sung,
And one whose face was strangely carved, and

rarely did he speak.
They did not fret on little things, and if the talk ran

thin
The pewter made its tilting round, according to the

rules:
They sat and stared upon the fire, all peaceably

akin

Some active Fools, some passive Fools, some
honorary Fools.

But sometimes, in a genial mood, the younger mem-
bers vowed

That it was wrong their fellowship should be so
limited

"The room is large, the hearth is wide; while we
don't want a crowd,

118

Still, why should we be selfish with our privilege ?'*

they said.
"For since man has this golden root of folly in his

breast,
Why may not lovely woman too possess some

molecules
Of sheer delightful foolishness? Let's put her to

the test,
And not be too exclusive in our parliament of Fools."

So they debated it. Indeed, they came as near a fuss
As such a reasonable group could ever come. But

then
One thoughtful Fool's objection made them all

unanimous.

"Now there are women Fools," he said, "as ran-
dom as the men.
But what's the honor of the Fool? What marks and

qualifies
And makes his melan'choly sweet and pure? Why

this, as you'll

Agree : He never never will pretend that he is wise
So how can any woman ever be a Perfect Fool?"

The vote was passed. They realized, more strictly

than before,
The duty that they owed the world, to keep their

folly pure:
And many an eager candidate they turned back at

the door,
And snugly circled round their hearth, fraternally

and sure.

They loved their virtue far too well to heedlessly admit
One bitter taint of wisdom through their mystic

vestibules,

And many a puzzled passenger was palsied in his wit
To hear that cryptic laughter in the Tavern of
the Fools.

The New York Evening Post Christopher Morley
119

THE SCHOOL BOY READS HIS ILIAD

The sounding battles leave him nodding still:

The din of javelins at the distant wall
Is far too faint to wake that weary will

That all but sleeps for cities where they fall.
He cares not if this Helen's face were fair,

Nor if the thousand ships shall go or stay;
In vain the rumbling chariots throng the air

With sounds the centuries shall not hush away.

Beyond the window where the Spring is new,
Are marbles in a square, and tops again^

And floating voices tell him what they do,

Luring his thought from these long-warring men,-

And though the camp be visited with Gods,

He dreams of marbles and of tops, and nods.

Contemporary Verse David Morton

ACQUAINTANCE

All that we know of April is her way

Of coming on the world through gentle springs^
Turning the hedge a whitening line of spray,

Staining the grass with shivered, golden things*
She has a way of rain against the sun,

Of moonlit orchards, ghostly white and still,
And the slow, silver coming, one by one,

Of burning stars above a purple hill.

And this is all we know of such as she,

These shirting names she leaves for us to call:

The whitening hedge, the showery apple tree,
And golden jonquils gathering by a wall. . . *

All that we know of April is her way,

And these bright legends we have learned to say*

The Nation David Morton

120

EXIT

I shall go in the wind

Down I slip road,
And no one shall mind

The traveler's load.

A slender tree

Round the bend to the South
Shall beckon to me

In the wind's mouth,

And the white-lipped frost
That clings to the ground

Knows the dream you have lost
Shall never be found.

The slope of it lingers

In driven rain,
But the earth's gray fingers,

Mold it again!

In purple bud

And in fretted stone,
In channeled blood

And in crumbled bone

Mold it again

In flesh and in flowers,
'Twixt a rain and a rain

Of April Showers.

The Century Edward J. O'Brien

IN A MOONLIT GARDEN

The moon has cast a spell upon my garden ;
Wherever she has laid her cool white fingers
The flowers all yield to her enchantress' sway,
Lilies have added cubits to their stature
For see how long now are their slender shadows
Stretching so black across the shining way!
The petals of the columbines and roses
And the blue lupins all are touched with silver
Each pansy's face has lost its look of fun.
But strangest is the spell upon my fountain;
No naiad is it now, but a young gambler.
Tossing up shining pennies one by one.
And very deep appears its shallow basin
As deep as is the moss that holds my footprints
And all its fish seem carven, stone-like things ;
While for the song these waters sang at morning,
Tinkling in happy chorus with the thrushes,
Prevails a stillness, as of muted strings.

Antoinette De Coursey Patterson
Contemporary Terse

IN THE BARN

The sun, in wanton pride,

Drenches the country-side

With spilt gold from his old autumnal store.

But Scipio sits within the barn's thick gloom,

The merest crack of light coming in the door

Sits and husks the corn long after working hours ^

Vainly for him the autumn bloom

Is on the flowers.

The inside of the barn is velvet black

Except where a gold thread runs along a crack;

And the inquisitive sun thrusts points of light

Through chink and cranny, piercing the midnight.
The dry husks rattle, and his shuffling feet
Keep time to what he sings an elusive tune,
Husky and monotonous and sweet,,
Scarce audible, so softly does he croon
To keep away the evil eye:

Everybody
Who is livin 3
Got to die.

Across the evening fields the setting sun
Richly intones toil done.
The home-bound negroes idle in the lanes,
Gossiping as they go; coarse laughter falls
On the resonant air; from a far field cat-calls
Float over, and a banjo's strains.
Shucking corn in the darkness, Scipio in reply
Sits and sings his mournful, husky stave :

Wid a silver spade

You Jcin dig my grave;

Everybody

Who is livin'

Got to die.

Poetry* A Magazine of Verse Josephine Pinchney

IN THE DELTA

The river country's wide and flat
And blurred ash-blue with sun,

And there all work is dreams come true,
All dreams are work begun.

The silted river made for us

The black and mellow soil
And taught us as we conquered him

Courage and faith and toil.

123

The river town that water-oaks

And myrtles hide and bless
Has broken every law except

The law of kindliness.

And north and south and east the fields

Of cotton close it round,
Where golden billows of the sun

Break with no shade or sound.

Dear is the town, "but in the fields

A little house could be,
If built with care and auspices,

A heart's felicity,

O friend, who love not much indoors

Or lamp-lit, peopled ways,
What of a field and house to pass

Our residue of days?

We'd learn of fret and labor there

A patience that we miss
And be content content to be

Nor wish nor hope for bliss.

With the immense untrammeled sun

For brother in the fields
And every night the stars* crusade

Flashing to us their shields.

We'd meet, perhaps, some dusk as we
Turned home to well-earned rest,

Unhurried Wisdom, tender-eyed,
A pilgrim and our guest.

William Alexander Percy
The Worth "American Review

A BRITTANY LOVE SONG

My only love is a sailor lad
Whose home is the fickle sea.

To other girls he gives his smiles,
But his mouth he gives to me.

On Sunday morning after mass

When he is dressed so fine^
He stops before their open doors,

But at night he come.s to mine.

O Mary, bless all sailor lads
Whose loves are two, and three,

But mine keep safe from other girls
Or let Trim die in the sea!

The Bookman WilUam Alexander Percy

COURAGE

Into a brown wood flew a brown bird

In the winter time:
The sky was dark with snow unf alien,

The leaves were bent with rime.

Once north he flew, once south he flew,
He perched in a naked tree.

He looked into the dreary dusk
And whistled merrily.

Contemporary Verse WilUam Alexander^ ercy

THE HOLY WOMEN

I have seen Mary at the cross

And Mary at the tomb
And Mary weeping as she spread her hair

In a leper's room.
But it was not in Bethany

Or groping up Calvary TiiTI
I learned how women break their hearts to ease

Another's ill.

Compassionate and wise in pain,

Most faithful in defeat,
The holy Marys I have watched and loved

Live on our street.

Contemporary Verse William* Alexander Percy

"I ACCEPT* 5

I shall go out as all men go,
Spent flickers in a mighty wind,
Then I shall know, as all must know,
What lies the great gray veil behind.

There may be nothing but a deep
And timeless void without a name
Where no sun hangs, no dead stars sleep,
And there is neither light nor flame.

There may be meadows there and hills,
Mountains and plains and winds that blow,
And flowers bending over rills
Springing from an eternal snow.

There may be oceans white with foam
And great tall ships for hungry men
Who called our little salt seas home
And burn to launch their keels again.

126

There may be voices I have known.,
Cool fingers that have touched my hair.
There may be hearts that were my own,
Love may abide forever there.

Who knows? Who needs to understand
If there be shadows there, or more,
To live as though a pleasant land
Lay just beyond an open door?

The Outlook Harold Trowbridge Pulsifer

THE DREAM

I have a dream

To fill the golden sheath

of a remembered day.

Air

Heavy and massed and blue

as the vapor of opium . * .

Domes

Fired in sulphurous mist . . .

Sea

Quiescent as a gray seal,

And the emerging sun

Spurting up gold

over Sydney smoke-pale,
rising out of the bay.

But the day is an upturned cup,
And its sun a junk of red iron
Guttering in sluggish-green water.
Where shall I pour my dream?

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Lola Ridge

127

CACTUS SEED

I

Radiant notes

Piercing my narrow-chested room,
Beating down through my ceiling
Smeared with unshapen
Belly-prints of dreams
Drifted out of old smokes
Trillions of icily
Peltering notes
Out of just one canary;
All grown to song,
As a plant to its stalk,
From too long craning at a sky-light
And a square of second-hand blue.

Silvery-strident throat

So assiduously serenading me,

My brain flinches under

The glittering hail of your notes.

Were you not safe behind rats know what thickness

of plastered wall,
I might fathom
Your golden delirium
With throttle of finger and thumb,
Shutting valve of bright song.

II

But if away off on a fork of grassed earth
Socketing an inlet of blue water . . .
If canaries do they sing out of cages ?
Flung such luminous notes,
They would sink in the spirit,
Lie germinal . . .

Housed in the soul as a seed in the earth,
To break forth at spring with the crocuses
into young smiles on the mouth . *

128

Or, glancing off buoyantly,
Radiate notes in one key
With the sparkle of rain-drops
On the petal of a cactus flower
Focusing the just-out sun.

Cactus . . . why cactus?

God . . . God!

Somewhere * . . away off ...

Cactus flowers, star-yellow,

Ray out of spiked green;

And empties of sky

Roll you over and over

Like a mother her baby in long grass.

And only the wind scandal-mongers with gum trtes,

Pricking multiple leaves at his wondrous story.

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Lola Ridge

ALTITUDE

I wonder

How it would be here with you,

Where the wind

That has shaken off its dust in low valleys

Touches one cleanly

As with a new-washed hand,

And pain

Is as the remote hunger of droning things,

And anger

But a little silence

Sinking into the great silence.

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Lola Ridge

129

APTER STORM

Was there a wind?

Tap ..... tap . . .

Night pads upon the snow

With moccasined f eet^

And it is still .... so still . . .

An eagle's feather

Might fall like a stone.

Could there have been a storm,

Mad-tossing golden mane

on the neck of the wind

Tearing up the sky,

loose-flapping like a tent
about the ice-capped stars ?

Cool, sheer and motionless,

The frosted pines

Are jewelled with a million flaming points,

That fling their beauty up in long white sheaves

Till they catch hands with stars.

Could there have been a wind

That haled them by the hair,

And blinding

Blue-forked

Flowers of the lightning

In their leaves?

Tap .... tap . . .

Slow-ticking centuries . * .

Soft as bare feet upon the snow . . .

Faint .... lulling as heard rain

upon heaped leaves . . .
So silence builds her wall

about a dream impaled.

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Lola Ridge

ISO

MOCKERY

Happened iihat the moon was up before I went to bed,
Poking through the bramble-trees her round gold

head.

I didn't stop for stocking,
I didn't stop for shoe,
But went running out to meet her oh, the night was

blue!

Barefoot down the hill road, dust beneath my toes ;
Barefoot in the pasture smelling sweet o fern and

rose!

Oh, night was running with me,
Tame folk were all in bed
And the moon was just showing her wild gold head !

But before I reached the hilltop where the bramble-
trees are tall,

I looked to see my lady moon she wasn't there at
all!

Not sitting on the hilltop,

Nor slipping through the air,

Nor hanging in the brambles by her bright gold hair !

I walked slowly down the pasture and slowly up the

Mil,

Wondering and wondering, and very, very still.
I wouldn't look behind me,
I went at once to bed
And poking through the window was her bold gold

head!

Poetry, 'A Magazine 'of Terse Katfierine Itiggs

181

SONNET TO A PLOUGH-WOMAN OF
NORWAY

Deep-bosomed, stalwart-limbed, superbly made,
Unconscious of her power and her grace,
Accustomed to the blowzy wind's embrace,
Magnificent, unlettered, unafraid.
She guides her course past interlacing streams
Striding the fields behind her ancient plough,
Or halts beneath some blossoming, frail bough
To rest her beast and give herself to dreams.
Her eyes survey the road, the moor, the peat,
With wide, untroubled gaze, she plays no part,
No joys rise up to suffocate her heart
Because a smile falls lightly at her feet.
To one who comes for her at dusk, perchance,
She lifts a brief intoxicated glance.

Contemporary Verse Margaret Tod Ritter

WATER NOISES

When I am playing by myself,
And all the boys are lost around,

Then I can hear the water go
It makes a little talking sound.

Along the rocks below the tree,

I see it ripple up and wink;
And I can hear it saying on,

"And do you think? and do you think?*

A bug shoots by that snaps and ticks,
And a bird flies up beside the tree

To go into the sky to sing.

I hear it say, "Killdee, killdee!"

Or else a yellow cow comes down
To splash a while and have a drink.

But when she goes I still can hear
The water say, "And do you think?"

Elizabeth Madox Roberts
Poetry, 'A Magazine of Verse

MY HEART

My heart is beating up and down,
Is walking like some heavy feet.

My heart is going every day,

And I can hear it jump and beat.

At night before I go to sleep
I feel it beating in my head;

I hear it jumping in my neck
And in the pillow on my bed.

And then I make some little words
To go along and say with it

The men are sailing home from Troy,
And all the lamps are lit.

The men are sailing home from Troy,
And all the lamps are lit.

Elizabeth Mad ox Roberts
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse

IBB

MANY" ARE CALLED

The Lord Apollo, who has never died,
Still holds alone his immemorial reign,
Supreme in an impregnable domain
That with his magic he has fortified;
And though melodious multitudes have tried
In ecstacy, in anguish, and in vain,
With invocation sacred and profane
To lure him, even the loudest are outside.

Only at unconjectured intervals,
By will of Him on whom no man may gaze,
By word of Him whose law no man has read,
A questing light may rift the sullen walls,
To cling where mostly its infrequent rays
Fall golden on the patience of the dead.

The New Republic Edwin Arlington Robinson-

LONG RACE

Up the old hill to the old house again,
When fifty years ago the friend was young
Who should be waiting somewhere there among
Old things that least remembered most remain,
He toiled on with a pleasure that was pain
To think how soon asunder would be flung
The curtain half a century had hung 1
Between the two ambitions they had slain.

They dreliged an hour for words, and then were done.
"Good-bye! .... You have the same old weather

vane

A little horse that's always on the run/'
And all the way down back to the next train,
Down the old hill to the old road again,
It seemed as if the little horse had won.

The New Republic Edwin Arlington Robinson
134

VAIN GRATUITIES

Never was there a man much uglier

In the eyes of other women, or more grim:

"The Lord has filled her chalice to the brim,

So let us pray she's a philosopher,*'

They said; and there was more they said of her

Deeming it, after twenty years with him,

No wonder that she kept her figure slim

And always made you think of lavender.

But she, demure as ever, and as fair,

Almost, as they remembered her before

She found him, would have laughed had she been

there;

And all they said would have been heard no mor^
Than foam that washes on an island shore
Where there are none to listen or to care.

The New Republic Edwin Arlington Robinson

LOST ANCHORS

Like a dry fish flung inland far from shore,

There lived a sailor, warped and ocean-browned,

Who told of an old vessel, harbor-drowned

And out of mind a century before,

Where divers, on descending to explore

A legend that had lived its way around

The world of ships, in the dark hulk had found

Anchors, which had been seized and seen no more.

Improving a dry leisure to invest

Their misadventure with a manifest

Analogy that he may read who runs.

The sailor made it old as ocean grass

Telling of much that once had come to pass

With him, whose mother should have had no sons.

The Nation Edwin Arlington Robinson

135

MONADNOCK THROUGH THE TREES

Before there was in Egypt any sound
Of those who reared a more prodigious means
For the self-heavy sleep of kings and queens
Than hitherto had mocked the most renowned,
Unvisioned here and waiting to be found,
Alone, amid remote and older scenes,
You loomed above ancestral evergreens
Before there were the first of us around.

And when the last of us, if we know how,
See farther from ourselves than we do now,
Assured with other sight than heretofore
That we have done our mortal best and worst,
Your calm will be the same as when the first
Assyrians went howling south to war.

The Outlook Edwin Arlington Robinson

CALIFORNIA DISSONANCE

There is a peewee bird that cries

"La, sol, me,

"La, sol, me."

He is the only thing that sighs

Beside the western sea.

The blue j ays chatter "Tcha ! Tcha ! Tcha!"

And cheer for California.

The real estate men chortle "Wheel"

And toot the loud calliope.

The sky is blue, the land is glad

The peewee bird alone is sad

And sings in minor key

136

sol, me,
"La, sol, me."

He is the only thing that sighs
Beside the western sea.

It was a shock, I own, to see
Sedition sitting in a tree,
Remarking plainly, "La, sol, me,
"Jla, sol, me,
"31a, sol, me."

The peewee bird is very wrong
To voice such sentiments in song
Beside the western sea.

I said: **My bird, you ought to know-
Enough to sing *E)o, me, sol, do,*
In major thirds, you see, for so
You'll help to make the country grow."

"You'll make the country grow, my dear

So lift your little bill and cheer,

*Do, me, sol, do/

'Do, me, sol, do.

You can't be singing *la, sol, me/

We simply must have harmony."

I think the bird could not have heard
He chanted still, I give my word,
"I/a, sol, me,
ILa, sol, me/*

And gloomed in obstinate dissent
From healthy public sentiment.

And yet I can not help but hope
The peewee bird will cease to mope;
For surely he will feel in time
The influence of the sunny clime;
Ah, yesj the peewee bird will soon
Be thinking lovely thoughts in tune;

1ST

The warnings of right-thinking men

Will bring him to himself again.

Converted, he will win to grace

And lift to God a shining face;

And he will be no longer sad

But so obstreperously glad

That he will sing from morn to night

Unbroken paeans of delight!

"Do, me, sol, do,

"Do, me, sol, do/*

Which helps to make the country grow.

The Freemati James Rorty

YDONE SINGS TO HIS PEOPLE

The morning comes riding to our market place

On the shoulders of a little hill;

And when it tires

Spending its golden coins,

And is heavy with sleep,

The mountains will take the day on its back

And carry it to the still dark House.

At night

O people of Karthana

Your evil deeds

Will sit in trees,

Like owls

And hoot you.

188

3

Having died

Arkon tlie fisherman

Went to heaven;

Thus when a comet

Falls in the skies

Be not frightened

O people of Karthana,

It is only a silver trout

Falling from a fisherman's line.

4

I thought my arrow struck a swan.

But it was only the moon

Come down to bathe in the waters of the Khara.

We are trees

And our days

Hang on branches,

Lrike leaves;

In the morning

We hide

Behind the strong walls of our songs,

But the wind finds us

In the evening,

And takes our songs

And our days

Like leaves.

Like an army with lit torches,
The first frosts
Have come upon my fields
Burning the young corn.

189

7

Like wolves

The winds came upon my fruit trees,
And tore them to the ground;
But there are no stones
To kill the wolves of the wind,
And no curses to wither their teeth.

The New Republic David Rosenthal

HILLTOP DUET

The Tree

Old Vagabond Wind,
Will you never take root?
Will you never settle down
To the soil,
And bear fruit?

The Wind

Old Stay-at-home Tree,
Will you never take wing?
Will you never break loose,
And roam free
Like a king?

Soth

The earth is for you,
And the air is for me
But the poor little fishes,
(Those little white fishes)
Must stay in the sea,
In the cold slimy sea
Brrr . . .

Emmy Veronica Sanders
Poetry, 2 ^faga&lne of Terse

140

ADELAIDE CRAPSEY

Yon whom Death wrong

That you might thus achieve

Crystalline drops of beauty,

Do not grieve

That from the sun-drenched purple places

They gathered you so soon . .

Envy us not who may,

With withered faces,

Watch the gray night suspend a haggard moon.

Emmy Veronica Sanders
Poetry, A Magazine of Terse

THE GREAT EVENT

The trivial, the small,

Make up our lives ;
And yet there comes to all

One great event
That lifts the veriest thrall

Pre-eminent,
Death, the imperative call

That none survives!

Harper** Magazine Clinton Scollard

141

THE BOX OF GOD

BROKEN BIRD

O broken bird,

Whose whistling silver wings have known the lift

Of high mysterious hands, and the wild sweet music

Of big winds among the ultimate stars !

The black-robed cures put your pagan Indian

Soul in their white man's House of God, to lay

Upon your pagan lips new songs, to swell

The chorus of amens and hallelujahs.

In simple faith and holy zeal, they flung

Aside the altar-tapestries, that you

Might know the splendor of God's handiwork,

The shining glory of His face. O eagle,

They brought you to a four-square box of God,

Crippled of pinion, clipped of soaring wing;

And they left you there to flutter against the bars

In futile flying, to beat against the gates,

To droop, to dream a little, and to die.

Ah, Joe Shing-6b by the sagamores revered

As Spruce the Conjurer, by the black-priests dubbed

The Pagan Joe how clearly I recall

Your conversion in the long-blade's House of God,

Your wonder when you faced its golden glories.

Don't you remember? when first you sledged from

out

The frozen Valley of the Sleepy-eye,
And hammered on the gates of Fort Brazeau
To sing farewell to Ah-nah-quod, the Cloud,
Sleeping, banked high with flowers, clothed in the

pomp

Of white man's borrowed garments in the church ?
Oh, how your heart, as a child's heart beating before
High wonders-workings, thrilled at the burial splen-
dor !
The coffin, shimmering^black as moonlit ice,

142

And gleaming in a ring of waxen tapers;
After the chant of death, the long black robes,
Blown by the wind and winding over the hills
With slow black songs to the marked-out-place-of-

death;

The solemn feet that moved along the road
Behind the wagon-with-windows, the wagon-of-death,
With its jingling nickel harness, its dancing plumes.
Oh, the shining splendor of that burial march.
The round-eyed wonder of the village throng!
And oh, the fierce-hot hunger, the burning envy
That seared your soul when you beheld your friend
Achieve such high distinction from the black-robes!
And later, when the cavalcade of priests
Wound down from the fenced-in-ground, like a slow

black worm

Crawling upon the snow don't you recall?
The meeting in the mission? that night, your first,
In the white man's lodge of holy-medicine?
How clearly I can see your hesitant step
On the threshhold of the church; within the door
Your gasp of quick surprise, your breathless mouth;
Your eyes round-white before the glimmering taper,
The golden-filigreed censer, the altar hung
With red rosettes and velvet soft as an otter's
Pelt in the frost of autumn, with tinsel sparkling
Like cold blue stars above the frozen snows.
Oh, the blinding beauty of that House of God!
Even the glittering bar at Jock McKay's,
Tinkling with goblets of fiery devil's-spit,
With dazzling vials and many-looking mirrors,
Seemed lead against the silver of the mission.

I hear again the chanting holy-men,
The agents of the white man's Mighty Spirit,
Making their talks with strong, smooth-moving
tongues :

143

"Hear ! Hear ye, men of a pagan faith J
Forsake the idols of the heathen fathers,
The too-many ghosts that walk upon the earth.
For there lie pain and sorrow, yea, and death I

"Hear ! Hear ye, men of a pagan faith !

And grasp the friendly hands we offer you

In kindly fellowship, warm hands and tender,

Yea, hands that ever give and never take*

Forswear the demon-charms of medicine-men;

Shatter the drums of conjuring Chee-sah-k6e

Yea, beyond these walls lie bitterness and death!

"Pagans! ye men of a bastard birth! bend,
Bow ye, proud heads, before this hallowed shrine !
Break ! break ye the knee beneath this roof,
For within this house lives God! Abide ye here!
Here shall your eyes behold His wizardry;
Here shall ye find an everlasting peace/'

Ah, Joe the pagan, son of a bastard people,
Child of a race of vanquished, outlawed children,
Small wonder that you drooped your weary head,
Blinding your eyes to the suns of elder days ;
For hungry bellies look for new fat gods,
And heavy heads seek newer, softer pillows.
With you again I hear the eerie chants
Floating from out the primal yesterdays
The low sweet song of the doctor's flute, the slow
Resonant boom of the basswood water-drum,
The far voice of the fathers, caning, calling.
I see again the struggle in your eyes
The hunted soul of a wild young grouse, afraid,
Trembling beneath maternal wings, yet lured
By the shrill whistle of the wheeling hawk.
I see your shuffling limbs, hesitant, faltering
Along the aisle the drag of old bronzed hands
Upon your moccasined feet, the forward frag
Of others, soft and white and very tender.

144

Of others, soft and white and very tender.

One forward step . . . another ... a quick look

back!

Another step . . . another . . . and lo ! the eyes
Flutter and droop before a flaming symbol,
The strong knees break before a blazoned altar
Glimmering its tapestries in the candle-light,
The high head beaten down and bending before
New wonder-working images of gold.

And thus the black-robes brought you into the house
Wherein they kept their God, a house of logs,
Square-hewn, and thirty feet by forty. They strove
To put before you food, and purple trappings
Oh, how they walked you up and down in the vestry,
Proudly resplendent in your white man's raiment,
Glittering and gorgeous, the envy of your tribe:
Your stiff silk hat, your scarlet sash, your shoes
Shining and squeaking glorious with newness!
Yet even unto the end those blood-stained nights
Of the sickness-on-the-lung; that bitter day
On the Barking Rock, when I packed you down from

camp

At Split-hand Falls to the fort at Sleepy-eye;
While, drop by drop, your life went trickling out,
As sugar-sap that drips on the birch-bark bucket
And finally chills in the withered maple heart
At frozen dusk: even unto the end
When the mission doctor, framed by guttering candles,
Hollowly tapped his hooked-horn finger here
And there upon your bony breast, like a wood-bird
Pecking and drumming on a rotten trunk
Even unto this end I never knew
Which part of you was offering the holy prayers
The chanting mouth, or the eyes that gazed beyond
The walls to a far land of windy valleys.
And sometimes, when your dry slow lips were moving
To perfumed psalms, I could almost, almost see
Your pagan soul aleap in the fire-light, naked,

145

Shaking the flat black earth with moccasined feet,
Dancing 1 again back among the jangling
Bells and the stamping legs of gnarled old men
Back to the fathers calling, calling across
Dead winds from the dim gray years.

O high-flying eagle,

Whose soul, wheeling among the sinuous winds,
Has known the molten glory of the sun,
The utter calm of dusk, and in the evening
The lullabies of moonlit mountain waters !
The black-priests locked you in their House of God,
Behind great gates swung tight against the frightened
Quivering aspens, whispering perturbed in council,
And muttering as they tapped with timid fists
Upon the doors and strove to follow you
And hold you; tight against the uneasy winds
Wailing among the balsams, fumbling upon
The latch with fretful fingers; tight against
The crowding stars who pressed their troubled faces
Against the windows. In honest faith and zeal,
The black-robes put you in a box of God,
To swell the broken chorus of amens
And hallelujahs; to flutter against the door,
Crippled of pinion, bruised of head; to beat
With futile flying against the gilded bars ;
To droop, to dream a little, and to die.

II : WHISTLING WINGS

Shing-6b, companion of my old wild years
In the land of K'tchee-gah-mee, my good right arm
When we battled bloody-fisted in the storms
And snows with rotting scurvy, with hunger raw
And ravenous as the lusting tongues of wolves
My Joe, no longer will the ghostly mountains
Echo your red-lunged laughters in the night;
The gone lone days when we communed with God
In the language of the waterfall and wind

146

Have vanished with your Jbasswood water-drum.
Do you recall our cruise to Flute-reed Falls?
Our first together oh, many moons ago
Before the cures built the village mission?
How, banked against our camp-fire in the bush
Of sugar-maples, we smoked Idn-nik-kin-nik,
And startled the sombre buttes with round raw songs,
With wails that mocked the lynx who cried all night
As if her splitting limbs were torn with pain
Of a terrible new litter? How we talked
TiH dawn of the Indian's Keetch-ie Ma-ni-do,
The Mighty Spirit, and of the white man's God?
Don't you remember dusk at Cold-spring Hollow?
The beaver-pond at our feet, its ebony pool
Wrinkled with silver, placid, calm as death,
Save for the fitful chug of the frog that flopped
His yellow jowls upon the lily-pad,
And the quick wet slap of the tails of beaver hurrying
Homeward across the furrowing waters, laden
With cuttings of tender poplar . . . down in the swale
The hermit-thrush who spilled his rivulet
Of golden tones into the purple seas
Of gloam among the swamps . . . and in the East^
Serene against the sky do you remember?
Slumbering Mont du Pere, shouldering its crags
Through the crumpled clouds, rose-flushed with after-
glow . . .

And dew-lidded dusk that slipped among the valleys
Soft as a blue wolf walking in thick wet moss.
How we changed our ribald song for simple talk ! . .

"My frie*, Ah-deeJc, you ask-wm plenty hard question:
Ugh! Were Keetch-ie Md-ni-d6 lie live?
Were all dose Eenzhun spirits walk and talk?
Me I dunno! . . . Mebbe . . . mebbe over here,
In beaver-pond, in thrush, in gromping bullfrog;
Mebbe over dere, Tie*$ sleeping in dose mountain . . .

147

"Sh-sh-shJ . . . Look! . . . Over dere . . . look, my
frien'J

On Mont du Pere . . . "he's moving little! . . .
ain't? . . .

Under dose soft blue blanket she's falling down

On hill and valley! Somebody somebody's dere! . . .

In dose hill of Mont du Pere, sleeping . . . sleep-
ing. . ."

And when the fingers of the sun, lingering,

Slipped gently from the marble brow of the glacier

Pillowed among the clouds, blue-veined and cool,

How, one by one, like lamps that flicker up

In a snow-bound hamlet in the valley, the stars

Lighted their candles mirrored in the waters . . .

And floating from the hills of Sleepy-eye,

Soft as the wings of dusty-millers flying,

The fitful syllables of the Baptism Biver

Mumbling among its caverns hollowly,

Shouldering its emerald sweep through cragged

cascades

In a flood of wafted foam, fragile, flimsy
As luna-moths fluttering on a pool . . .

"Caribou, you hear dot? . . . somebody's dere! . . .

Ain't . . . in dose hills of Mont du Pere . . . sleep-
ing.

Sh-sh-sh! . . . You hear-um? . . . dose far 'way
Flute-reed Fall? . . .

Somebody's dere in Mont du P&re, sleeping . . .

Somebody he's in dere de whole night long . . .

And w'ile he's sleep, he's talking little . . . talk-
ing. . ."

Hush! don't you hear K'tchee-gah-me'e at mid-
night ?

That stretched far out from the banks of Otter-slide
To the dim wet rim of the world North, East,
West?

The Big-water, calm, thick-flecked with the light of

stars

As the wind-riffled fur of silver fox in winter . . .
The shuffle of the sands in the lapsing tide . . .
The slow soft wash of waters on the pebbles . . ,

"Sh-sh-sh! . . . Look, Ah-deeJc! . . . on K*tchee-gah-

mee! . . .

Somebody something he's In dere . . . ain't? . . .
He's sleep w'ere black Big-water she's deep . . .

Ho* . . .

In morning he*s jump up from hees bed and race
Wit 9 de winds but tonight he's sleeping . . . rolling

little . . .
Dreaming about hees woman . . . rolling . . . sleep-

mg . . ."

And later you recall? beyond the peaks

That tusked the sky like fangs of a coyote snarling,

The full-blown mellow moon that floated up

Like a liquid-silver bubble from the waters,

Serenely, till she pricked her delicate film

On the slender splinter of a cloud, melted,

And trickled from the silver-dripping edges.

Oh, the splendor of that night! . . . The Twin-fox

stars

That loped across the pine-ridge . . . Red Ah-nung,
Blazing from out the cavern of the gloom
Like the smoldering coal in the eye of carcajou . , .
The star-dust in the valley of the sky,
Flittering like glow-worms in a reedy meadow!

*' Somebody's dere . . . He's walk-um in dose

cloud . . .
Look! . . . You see-um? . . , He's mak'-um for

hees woman

De w'ile she sleep, dose t'ing she want-urn most
Blue dress foi\ dancing! . . . You see, my

frien'? . . . ain't? . . .

149

He's throwing on de blanket of dose sky
Dose plenty-plenty handfuls of t&'ite stars;
He's sewing on dose plenty teet* of elk,
Dose shiny looking-glass and plenty beads.
Somebody's dere . . . something he's in dere. * /*

The green moons went and many many winters.
Yet we held together, Joe, until our day
Of falling leaves, like two split sticks of willow
Lashed tight with buckskin buried in the bark.
Do you recollect our last long cruise together.
To Hollow-bear, on our line of marten traps ?
When cold Pee-boan, the Winter-maker, hurdling
The rim-rock ridge, shook out his snowy hair
Before him on the wind and heaped up the hollows?
Flanked by the drifts, our lean-to of toboggans,
Our bed of pungent balsam, soft as down
From the bosom of a whistling swan in autumn .
Our steaming sledge-dogs buried in the snow-bank,
Nuzzling their snouts beneath their tented tails,
And dreaming of the paradise of dogs . . *
Our fire of pine-boughs licking up the snow,
And tilting at the shadows in the coulee . . .
And you, rolled warm among the beaver-pelts,
Forgetful of your sickness-on-the-lung,
Of the fever-pains and coughs that wracked your

bones

You, beating a war song on your drum,
And laughing as the scarlet-moccasined flames
Danced on the coals and bellowed up the sky.

Don't you remember? . . . the snowflakes drifting

down

Thick as the falling petals of wild plums . . .
The clinker-ice and the scudding fluff of the whirlpool
Muffling the summer-mumblings of the brook . . .
The turbulent waterfall protesting against
jSuch early winter-sleep, like a little boy
Who struggles with the calamity of slumber,

150

Knuckling his laden lids and his tingling nose
With a pudgy fist, and fretfully flinging back
His snowy cover with his petulant fingers.
Out on the windy barrens restless bands
Of caribou, rumped up against the gale,
Suddenly breaking before the rabid blast,
Scampering off like tumbleweeds in a cyclone. . .
The low of bulls from the hills where worried moose,
Nibbling- the willows, the wintergreens, the birches,
Were yarding up in the sheltering alder-thicket . . .
Prom the cedar wind-break, the bleat of calves wedged

warm

Against the bellies of their drowsy cows . . .
And then the utter calm . . . the wide white drift
That lay upon the world as still and ghastly
As the winding-sheet of death . . . the sudden snap
Of a dry twig . . . the groan of sheeted rivers
Beating with naked hands upon the ice ...
The brooding night . . . the crackle of cold skies . . .

<f Sh-sJi-sJi-sJi! . . . Look, my frien', . . . some-
body's dere! . . .

Ain't? . . . over dere? . . . He's come from dose
Land-of -Winter! % . .

Wit 9 quilt he's cover-um up dose baby mink,

Dose cub, dose wild arbutus, dose jump^up-
JoJinny . . .

He's keep Tiees chil'ens warm for long, long
winter . .

Sh-sJi-$h-sh! . . . Somebody's dere on de w'ite $a-
vanne! . . .

Somebody's dere! . . . He's walJc-um in de
timber . . .

He's cover-um up Jiees chil'ens, soft . . . soft . . /'

And later^ when your bird-claw fingers rippled
Over the holes of your cedar Bee-bee-gwun
Mellowly in a tender tune, how the stars,
Like little children trooping from their teepees,

151

Danced with their nimble feet across the sky
To the running-water music of your flute . .
And how, with twinkling heels they scurried off
Before the Northern Light swaying, twisting,
Spiralling like a slender silver smoke
On the thin blue winds, and feeling out among
The frightened starry children of the sky . . .

f 'Look! . . . in de Land-of -Winter . . . somet 'ing's

dere! . . .
Somebody Tie's reaching out hees hand! . . . for

me! . . .
Ain't? . . . For me he's waiting . . . Somebody's

dere! . . .
Somebody he's dere, waiting . . . waiting . . .*'

Don't you remember? the ghostly silence, splintered

At last by a fist that cracked the hoary birch,

By a swift black fist that shattered the brittle air,

Splitting it into a mill ion frosty fragments . .

And dreary Northwind, coughing in the snow,

Spitting among the glistening sheeted pines,

And moaning on the barrens among the bones

Of gaunt white tamaracks mournful and forlorn . . .

Sh-sh-sh-sh! . . . My Caribou! . . . Somebody's

dere! . * .

He's crying . . . little bit crazy in dose wind . . .
Ain't? . . . You heard-um? . . . far 'way . . .

crying

Lak my old woman w'en she's lose de baby
And no can find-um w'en she's running every-

w'ere,

Falling in snow, talking little bit crazy,
Calling and crying for shees little boy . . .
yh-sh-sh-sh! . . . Somet'ing's dere . , . yoto

hear-um? . . . ain't? . . .
Somebody somebody's dere, crying . . . cry-

ing . .

152

Then from the swale, where shadows pranced

grotesquely

Solemn, like phantom pnppets on a string,
A. cry pointed, brittle, perpendicular
As startling as a thin stiff blade of ice
Laid swift and sharp on fever-burning flesh:
The tremulous wail of a lonely shivering wolf,
Piercing the world's great heart like an icy sword. . *

"Look! . . . Quick! . . . Ah-dSeJc! . . . Some-
body's dere! . . .

Ain't? . . . He's come Tie's come for me for me!

Me me f I go! My Caribou . . .

Dose "fire dose fire she's going out she's
cold . . .

T*row t'row on dose knots of pine . . . Mee-
gtvetch! . . .

And pull 'way from dose flame dose pan of
sour-dough,

If you want eat in de morning damn-good
flapjack . . .

"Sh-sh-sh-sh! . . . Something's dere! . . . You

Tiear-um? . . . ain't? . . .
Somebody somebody's dere f calling . . . call"

ing . . .
J go . . .7 go me! . . . me . . . I go . . /*.

in: TALKING WATERS

O eagle whose whistling wings have known the lift
Of high mysterious hands, and the wild sweet music
Of big winds among the ultimate stars,
The black-robes put you in a box of God,
Seeking in honest faith and holy zeal
To lay upon your lips new songs, to swell
The chorus of amens and hallelujahs.
O bundle of copper bones tossed in a hole,
Here in the place-of-death God's fenced-in
ground!

15$

Beneath these put-in pines and waxen lilies,
They placed you in a crimson gash in the hillside,
Here on a bluff above the Sleepy-eye,
Where the Baptism River, mumbling among the

canyons,

Shoulders its flood through crooning waterfalls
In a mist of wafted foam fragile as petals
Of windflowers blowing across the green of April;
Where ghosts of wistful leaves go floating up
In the rustling blaze of autumn, like silver smokes
Slenderly twisting among the thin blue winds;
Here in the great gray arms of Mont du P&re,
Where the shy arbutus, the mink, and the Johnny-
jump-up

Huddle and whisper of a long, long winter;
Where stars, with soundless feet, come trooping up
To dance to the water-drums of white cascades
Where stars, like little children, go singing down
The sky to the flute of the wind in the willow-tree
Somebody somebody's there . . . O pagan Joe . .
Can't you see Him as He moves among the

mountains

Where dusk, dew-lidded, slips among the valleys
Soft as a blue wolf walking in thick wet moss ?
Look ! . . . my friend ! ... at the breast of Mont du

Pere! ...
Sh-sh-sh-sh! . . , Don't you hear His talking

waters . . .

Soft in the gloom as broken butterflies
Hovering above a somber pool , . . Sh-sh-sh-sh!
Somebody's there ... in the heart of Mont du

Pere . . .

Somebody somebody's there, sleeping . . . sleep-
ing ...

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Lew Sarett

154

. .AS THE VIOLETS CAME"

Some lore may come like a call to wars
In a gale of glory that blinds and thrills ;

But my love came like the breaking stars
In a sudden hush on the summer hills.

Some love may come like a storm that swells
In the August sky as the daylight wanes ;

But my love came like the sound of bells
The winds have drifted across the plains.

Some love may come like a flame that's drawn
Through ruins crackling across the night ;

But my love came like a breaking dawn

On the daisy hills where the world is white.

For Love, as they say, may come like flame,
Or a challenge gay, or a wind untrue ;

But my love came as the violets came

In the quiet fields when the spring was new.

Contemporary Verse George Brandon Saul

THE SHOP

The shop is red and crimson. Under the forge
Men hold red bars of iron with black iron tongs.

It crashes sparks spatter out; it crashes again,

again.
At last the iron is bent as it belongs.

Swedes, Norwegians, Poles or Greeks they are men:
They grin when they please, look ugly when they
please;

They wear black oakum in their ears for the noise ;
They know their job, handle their tools with ease.

155

Their eyes are clean and -white in their black faces;

If they like, they are surly, can speak an ngly no ;
They laugh great blocks of mirth, their jokes are
simple;

They know -where they stand, -which way they go.

If I -wore overalls, lost my disguise

Of -womanhood and youth, they would call me

friend ;
They would see I am one of them, and we could talk

And laugh together, and smoke at .the day's end.

Marjorie Allen Seiffert
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse

TWO WOMEN

Two faint shadows of women were ascending

The pathway of a desolate hill,
Pale as moth-wings beneath the low-bending

Sycamore branches, in the moonlight paler still.

"This one is dead," said the moon ; "her face is ashen,

She is dry as a withered leaf
What has she known of beauty or of passion

To come by moonlight to the mountain of grief?"

"The other too is dead," said the earth, "yet her feet
are burning

I feel them hot and restless as blown fire.
She has known many paths, why is she turning

Here, from the secret valley of desire?"

They passed, the moon paled, and from leafy places
Morning crept forth. At last they came

Prom the mountain of grief women with tear-wet

faces
Who had been withered leaf and shadow of flame.

Marjorie Allen Seifferi
Poetry y A Magazine of Verse

156

NOCTURNE

The moonlit hill
And the black trees
Where a hidden bird
Sings and is still
Even these
Leave me unstirred.

I am hidden deep,
Like the secret bongh
Of a tree in leaf.
I am safe asleep
What can touch me now
Of joy or grief?

For night and noon
The sky is shut,
The winds are dumb;
Behind the moon
No gates are cut
For the winds to come.

Could wind from the moon
Sweep down until,
Like a winter tree,
My leaves were strewn
On the moonlit hill
And I stood free,

Beauty and pain
Would touch me now
With bitter cold,
As moonbeams rain
Through a naked bough
When the year is old.

Marjorie Allen Seiffert
Poetry f A Magazine of Ferse

157

PORTRAIT OF A LADY

Goodmorning, madam, in your sleepy brown hair

Twist yourself awake, blink and stare I

I am lying on the floor,

With the old rose-red

Dressing-gown you wore

When you went to bed.

Don't look stupid with drowsy blue eyes
Here by the bed is your disguise!
You're a gentle wife
And a tender mother,
And all your life
You shall be no other.

Life is a shawl to wrap about your shoulder

Every day warmer, every day older.

In half an hour

You'll be dressed,

Youth like a flower

Wilting on your breast.

Marjorie Allen Seiffert
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse

THERAPY

There is a way

Of healing love with love,

They say.

But I say no!

What! Shall pain comfort pain,

Fever cool fever,

Woe minister to woe?

158

Shall tear remembering,
Wash cool remembering tear?
Shall scar play host to scar,
Loneliness shelter loneliness,
And is forgetting here?

Poor patch-work of the heart,

This healing love with love,

Binding the wound to wound,

The smart to smart I

Grafting the dream upon the other dream,

As gardener grafts tree to tree,

And both from the same wild root

Bearing their bitter fruit;

The new dream dreaming in the old,

The old dream in the new. . . .

And neither dreaming true!

Beloved !

Is there a heaven
Above the heaven we knew
So well-
Is there beneath our dream's awakening
A darker hell?

And shall we know them too?
One thing I know!
Of a vast giving that is a taking,
A wrong, a robbery !
Perhaps you so wronged me,
I so robbed you*

Therapy !

I am content to feel

This health of heart that will not heal;

I am content to think

That I am one with hunger,

Given to thirst^

159

And that I need not eat nor drink.
I am full-nourished so.

*****

Beyond the wastes of wept-out woe

I see you still,

Holding toward me those tender hands

I could not fill;

My palms still curve and close,

Deeming they hoard

The shining things you poured

That I let spill.

Over us lift the years;

Hill upon hill

Of days that wither into night

And nights that ache to day . . .

Reiterated emptiness of shade and light

Crowding the emptier way.

Up to this" high, sure therapy of time,
Beloved, shall we climb?

*****

I know thab I am tired: I would rather stay

Down in the shadows of our dear defeat

Too still for invading grief, too deep

A little while;

And sleep, as children sleep.

A little, little while!

Turn from my dreamlessness, and wake, and smile

Indifferent to the dark,

Holding to me my one-time joy,

As children clutch an ancient, battered toy

They will not have renewed;

Smile and lie closer to a loss

That tunes itself to gain

Inexorable lullaby

Lie softer, safer,

160

Pillowed on pulseless fortitude,
Drowsy . . . .
Beneath my pain.

The Measure Leonora Speyer

THE PET

jLiujt/c gnawed at my heart like a hungry rat.,
Ban in and out of my dreams high- walled,
I heard its scampering feet:
"Pretty rat pretty rat!" I called,
And crumbled it songs to eat.

Hope peeped at me from behind my dreams,
Nibbled the crumbs of my melodies.
Grew tame and sleek and fat;
Oh but my heart knew ease
To feel the teeth of my rat]

Then came a night and then a day
I heard soft feet that scuttled away
Bats leave the sinking ship, they say.

The Bookman Leonora Speyer

161

TO A LITTLE XIITH CENTURY FIGURE

OF THE CRUCIFIED CHRIST: THE

CROSS MISSING

Where is your cross, poor homeless One? I see
The piteous stretching of your hands and feet
This is the gesture, somber and complete,

In bloodless bronze, of your long agony.

And where the nails that held you to the tree?
Here are the faint stigmata, cruel-sweet,
And in my heart there sounds the hammer's beat:

O Son of God, be crucified in me!

Come, walk my Calvary of womanhood,
Taste the wild hyssop of my hidden tear,
Wear my gay crown and know my laughing spear,

Call Magdalene in purple to my rood:

Hang, Christ that died for love, upon my pain,
Between pale thieves, the dreams that dream in
vain!

The Sonnet Leonora Speyer

VICTORY

Day is the heart's red field,

And many an anguish there

Is lost or won,

And many a hope lies hopeless in the sun;

But night the conqueror kind,

Spreads its blessed treaty of the stars,

Where the heart's peace is signed.

162

Under the moon's white flag

I meet my ambushed dreams,

I see the foe

Whom I have faced and put to flight, I know !

Yielding his hosts to me;

And in strong, vanquished hands I lay

My weeping victory,

TJie Nation Leonora Speyer

MARY MAGDALENE

I think that Mary Magdalene
Was just a woman who went to dine,
And her jewels covered her empty heart
And her gown was the color of wine.

I think that Mary Magdalene
Sat by a stranger with shining head.
"Haven't we met somewhere?" she asked,
"Magdalene! Mary!" he said.

I think that Mary Magdalene
Fell at his feet and called his name;
Sat at his feet and wept her woe
And rose up clean of shame.

Nobody knew but Magdalene,
Mary, the woman who went to dine;
Nobody saw how he broke the bread
And poured for her peace the wine.

This is the story of Magdalene
It isn't the tale the Apostles tell,
But I know the woman it happened to,
I know the woman well.

The Nation Leonora Speyer

16S

MEASURE ME, SKY I

Measure me, sky I

Tell me I reach by a song

Nearer the stars :

I have been little so long!

Weigh me, high -wind !

What will your wild scales record?

Profit of pain,

Joy by the weight of a word !

Horizon, reach out!

Catch at my hands, stretch me taut,

Rim of the world :

Widen my eyes by a thought !

Sky, be my depth,
Wind, be my width and my height,
World, my heart's span:
[Loneliness, wings for my flight!

The Measure Leonora Speyer

CORTEGE FOR ROSENBLOOM

Now the wry Rosenbloom is dead
And his finical carriers tread,
On a hundred legs, the tread
Of the dead.
Rosenbloom is dead.

They carry the wizened one

Of the color of horn

To the sullen hill,

Treading a tread

In unison for the dead.

164*

Rosenbloom is dead.

The tread of tlie carriers does not halt

On the hill, but turns

Up the sky.

They are bearing his body into the sky.

It is the infants of misanthropes

And the infants of nothingness

That tread

The wooden ascents

Of the ascending of the dead.

It is turbans they wear
And boots of fur
As they tread the boards
In a region of frost,
Viewing the frost*

To a chirr of gongs
And a chitter of cries
And the heavy thrum
Of the endless tread
That they tread.

To a jabber of doom.
And a jumble of words
Of the intense poem
Of the strictest prose
Of Kosenbloom.

And they bury him there,
Body and soul,
In a place in the sky.
The lamentable tread !
Rosenbloom is dead.

TTie Measure Wallace Steven*

165

TO JOSEPH SEVERN
For the Centenary of Keat's Death, 23 February,

We who loved Keats will never long forget
Your memory, Severn: how your hand could trace
With tenderest art his dream-enshrouded face;
Could mould that moonlight-haunted brow, where met,
As in a fane on some Greek island set,
The beauty that transcends all time and place,
And the more winsome, earth-begotten grace
Of altar-flowers with limpid dew-drops wet.

But what you gave to Keats the man, your friend,
Has bound your name to his with dearer ties.
You soothed and shared his anguish at the end;
You heard the last cry of those passionate lips;
You last beheld those wonder-seeing eyes;
And watched the soul win free from Time's eclipse.

The Freeman Charles Wharton Stork

THE ODD ONES

I like best those crotchety ones

That follow their own way
In whimsical oblivion

Of what the neighbors say.

They grow more rare as they grow old,
Their lives show in their faces

In little slants and twisted lines;
Like trees in lonely places.

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Ruth Suckow

166

GRAMPA SCHULER

Grampa Schuler, when he was young,

Had a crest of hair, and shining eyes.

He wore red-flowered waistcoats,

Wild Byronic ties.

The whole land of Germany

Wasn't wide enough!

He ran away one night, when winter

Seas were fierce and rough.

He has a sleek farm here

With already a settled air.

He's patriarchal, with his sons

And daughters round him everywhere,

His son's son Jim has fiery eyes

He wants to go where the land is new!

Grampa bitterly wonders: "What are

Young fools coming to!"

Poetry ', A Magazine of Terse Ruth SucJcow

BOYS AND GIRLS

The Sun-children:

Boys and girls, come out to play:
The sun is up, the wind's astray,
Early morning's gold is gone,
(They slumber on, they slumber on.)
I have never done tenth you
Half the things I want to do.
I will put kisses on your knees,
And we will squander as we please
This little, lazy, lovely day!

167

Ninety million miles away
The sun halloos: "Come out to play,
The winds are prancing on tip-toe
Impatient with long waiting so,
- The hills look up. Come out, and oh,
Let your bodies dart and run
While I make shadows," says the sun*

Boys and girls, come out to play
Before the river runs away
I have never done with you
Half the things I 'want to do. . ,

The Sun:

Boys and girls, come out to play
Before the river runs away.
While you are fluid, unafraid,
Beneath my light and shadow skim,
Before this folded gloom is cb'm
And limb no longer follows limb
Dancing under spotted shade.

For dancing were your bodies made!
Before the roses of you fade
Find your meaning for the mouth
While I lean south; while I go west,
Find your meaning for the rest.

The Sun-children:

Throw back your head and fly with me,

Love me, chase me, lie with me,

Follow, sweetheart of the sun,

Turn and follow where I run

Between blue vineyards and fruit-trees

Fall down and kiss me on the knees !

Pant beside me while I pull

Berries for you from the full

Blue- jewelled branches. Crush them red

Not on your mouth on mine instead !

168

The Sun:

Nimble you move, you are my own
My pliant essence. All alone,
On fire in the passive sky
I burn a stone, a golden stone.
Together you in double shade
Discover why your limbs were made.

The Sun-child:

I have never done with you

Half the things I want to do.

Link your arms and loosen them,,

Pluck and suck a grass's stem.

Touch my breasts with that blue aster,

Kiss me fast I'll kiss you faster !

Link your arms and loosen them.

Now link your arms like mine together,
Toward me lightly, like a feather,
Dance. Like feathers you'll be blown
Across the level eld alone,
And like a brown wing my bare feet
Will skim the meadow till we meet.

The river skips, but we are quicker:
Its little body's slender glisten
Goes down alley-ways of leaves.
Flicker, sun, and river, flicker;
Listen, lover, listen, listen
How the river laughs and grieves. . . .

I have never done with you

Half the things I want to do.

Xeap for me, sweetheart, reach and try

To catch me, sweetheart; kiss and cry

After me, sweetheart, darting by.

169

After you seize me, we will lie,
I in the grass, yon in the sky;
After you kiss me, we will start
To try and reach each other's heart,
And searching frantically find
The unseen blisses of the blind.

The Sun-children:

Before the river runs away,
Boys and girls, come out and play.
(They slumber on, they slumber on,
Morning's glint is almost gone.)
With yellow bubbles nil your veins
Before the lusty day-star wanes.
(They slumber on, they slumber on,
Silken leopard noon is gone.)
Die you may, die you must
Fill your mouths with polled dust;
Calyxes and honey thighs
Both will wither. Beauty dies.
Find out why mouths are berry-red
Before you stiffen in your drab bed.
Over you humming summer will glide,
You'll never lie languid on your side,
And listen then as you listen now
To half-heard melodies ; oh, how
The river runs and runs and runs
Fluid with splendor, and the sun's
Circuit is singing. Fragile day !
Boys and girls, come out to play!

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Genevleve Taggard

170

ICE AGE

Noiselessly the planets will blow by

Lite smoke, like breath, like driven snow,

Frost-bitten suns on on, on on will blow,

Over earth's curve, the moons, like birds, will fly

Making no noise and only vague shadow.

And spider snow will spin and spin
A tangle of frost to snare earth in.

Little earth, then

Will house few men,

Little earth, shrunken,

No longer drunken

Purple, splendid, roistering earth;

Little earth hung

With pearls of seas,

Little earth shivering,

About to freeze.

And through her veins, caught in this web
Life and color and sound will ebb.

There will be faint tints, none
From the center of the sun.

There will be light noises, no
Sound harsher than snow.

Never a sound of thunder or river,

Torrent or stone,

Only vague breath from the old life-giver,

Making her own

Final, lingering filagree

Of frost blown

On the glass of the sky, in planet and tree

An icicle moon, a torrent and three

171

Glittering stars half -grown;
A slight tone

Eippling into the stilling river,
The crisp sea.

And spider snow will spin and spin
A tangle of cold to catch earth in.

Morning's red yawn,
Evening's pain,

Never will startle the earth, then,
Pure from her stain,

Earth's garments discarded and cleansed by the cold
clean hands of the rain.

A leaf's lines, and stem's tints,
Make in icy places, prints;

Trace of a foot, of a hooked claw
Settled to stone since the last thaw;

Minnows bent with wavering 1
Along a pool's ice edges cling.

All the beautiful, brave
Colors that curled in the wave
Flooding ground purple and crimsoning air
Are battered and rigid and bare.

Earth, bled of her sap,
Too stiff to unfold,
The sprouted mould
In the cleft of her lap;

While circles woven nearer now
Hang cold breedings on her brow.

Still, then crackling, once more still
Icy feet come up the hill.

172

Pushing- back the granite fright
Men sing morn ing and sing night.

Only singing matters now

With stark birds on every bough.

Keeping back the loneliness
Men will swagger and caress,
And to dodge the fear of snow
Sing high and sing low.

Caroling for morning, caroling for noon,,

Stiff tasks done with a tiny tune,,

And never a note

In timbre any bigger than the tone of a flute,

X.ittle sounds only coining in the throat,

And the big sounds mute.

Thinner, rarer and more shrill,
As silence whitens on the hill,
Whistling- in daylight to keep up nerve,
While blue -whiteness comes up the curve.

Bravado of sparse breath

Blown straight at death,

Voices in silences, swooping like birds,

Voices and caroling

Warm words. Flung at the sky's stiff stare

Into the brittle air

A laugh like a torch's flare. . . ,

Desperate gaiety and games

And pleasantries for comfort like wan flames,

Will be their only way,

For in the midst of play

Pause a long sway,

Something 1 faltering underneath,

The brief

178

Gasp of the breath, eye's blur,

Blunder of mortal fingers, words too thick to say,

Slight motions underneath the grey

Faces of cloud

And caroling, caroling, caroling loud,

To keep the cold away.

Some will slouch,

Lazy, brave,

Others crouch,

In a hidden cave,

Hearing near and hearing far,

Heavy steps from feet of stone,

Tread the warping fields alone,

Hearing far and hearing near

The wind's hiss in earth's ear,

Feel

Ground fall, and ground reel,

Brittle footsteps steal

Up the hill and down the cliff,

Touching, snapping, making stiff,

While granite footsteps, grinding numb

Up the little hollow come.

Not to give in

Men will go on

Trying to sin, making vague love, kissing wan

Faces. Trying to make

Children with women,

Trying to wake

Hints of old hunger, bitterly break

Flesh that turns marble-hard, trying to take

Life in their arms for their small comfort's sake.

Women will not move as move

Those confident of love.

Hurt like a torpid snake,

Agony drags and stirs but cannot wake.

174

So they will pass their days,

Fostering a child or two, giving names

Of half-remembered music, clamor, sound;

Over hunched shoulders peering round

For cold that creeping comes ;

Over and over saying tropic words,

And calling babies after jungle birds.

They will be cheered with each new child,

And the wierd

PaH of the sky and the wild

Tangle of hooped moons piled

Like rubbish in the pallid west

Won't trouble them so much

With what they feared,

They'll touch

Cautiously their 1 children and their lovers, clutch

Anything alive.

Not to give in

Men will go on,

Cold to the chin,

Light-stepping for fear

Feeling the thin

Ice of the air crack under the weight

Of feather-poised earth, and the near

Nuzzle of snow and the wind's spear.

Smoke from fire

And ice's smoke,

Lunge together,

Fight and choke,

Plunge and throttle and fight, and all

Blue smoke vanishes. Ashes fall.

Some will call the skimming planets, cranes

Going south for winter, nothing more,

And some will sow the icy fields with grains,

Search barren pools,

Harvest sea-weed, plant a pebble, or

Plough snow with patient tools.

175

And they will never cease to look for spring,

Climb endless hills,

And turn from east to west and west to east,

Imagining the least

Shreds of far color,

Supposing that they feel

Warmth on their faces, following the wheel,

Circling on its axis, search the sky

For sign of thaw, or rain or any change,

Looking for birds, where only dead stars fly

And calling snows and deepening snow-falls, strange.

In tightening silence, they ttill search for sonnd,

Beneath the smother o the sky,

Find tangled iron, as the first men found

Iron and more than mortal sinew in the ground.

And they will worship symbols of sure things,
Sure things, and tangible, cut clear,
Forgetting rust, they will keep iron near,
And try to pour into an iron mould,
The past's white fire perishing with cold*

And out of iron's touch upon their palms

Will come a song,

And they will seize stone hammers, make a clang;

Sing as they never sang,

Wild, assaulting, strong,

(Clang, cold, clang).

Stone on stone with iron bits

Clamped together (Clang, clang),

Iron! twisted till it fits,

Notched and jammed and bolted fast,

Rearing heavily and slow

One monument against snow,

A monument to last, a tomb to hold

Yellow pollen of all past,

Against the cold.

176

Until at last comes twilight glimmer,

Voices,, f aces, motions dimmer,

Breath as low

As the all covering snow,

Even the evening and the morning laid

Cheek to cheek, will fade,

Radiance and sound made one,

And quieted and blended into none.

The Measure Genevieve Taggard

WILD PLUM

They are unholy who are born
To love wild plum at night,

Who once have passed it on a road
Glimmering and white.

It is as though darkness had

Speech of silver words,
Or as though a cloud of stars

Perched like ghostly birds.

They are unpitied from their birth
And homeless in men's sight,

Who love better than the earth
Wild plum at night.

The New York Tribune Adul Tlma

THE PARK CUP

I

MAT
A delicate fabric of bird-song

Floats in the air,
The smell of wet wild earth
Is everywhere-

177

Red small leaves of the maple

Are clenched like a hand,
Like girls at their first communion

The pear trees stand.

Oh I must pass nothing by

Without loving it much,
The rain drop try with my lips,

The grass with my touch;

For how can I he sure

I shall see again
The world on the first of May

Shining after the rain?

II
"THE DREAMS OF MY HEART*'

The dreams of my heart and my mind pass.

Nothing stays with me long,
But I have had from a child

The deep solace of song;
If that should ever leave me,

Let me find death, and stay
With things whose tunes are played out and forgotten,

Like the rain of yesterday.

Ill

BELLS

At six o'clock of an autumn dusk

With the sky in the west a rusty red,

The bells of the mission down in the valley
Cry out that the day is dead.

The first star shines as sharp as steel

Why am I suddenly so cold?
Three bells, each with a separate sound,

Clang in the valley, wearily tolled.

178

Bells in Venice, bells at sea.,

Bells in the valley, heavy and slow
There is no place over the crowded world

Where I can forget that the days go.

IV

IN THE END

All that could never be said.
All that could never be done,

Wait for us at last

Somewhere back of the sun.

All the heart broke to forego
Shall be ours without pain,

We shall take them as lightly as girls
Pluck flowers after rain.

And when we have found them at last,

Perhaps, after all,
The skies will not open for us,

Nor heaven be there at our calL

V

"A LITTLE WHILE"

A little while when I am gone

My life will live in music after me,
As spun foam lifted and borne on

After the wave is lost in the full sea.

Awhile these nights and days will burn

In song, with the frailty of foam,
Living in light before they turn

Back to the nothingness that is their home.
Contemporary Verse Sara Teasdale

179

THE MYSTERY

Your eyes drink of me,
Love makes them shine,

Your eyes that lean
So close to mine.

We have long been lovers

We know the range
Of each other's moods

And how they change.

But when we look

At each other so,
Then we feel

How little we know.

The spirit eludes us,

Timid and free
Can I ever know you

Or you know me?

Everybody's Magazine Sara Teasdale

EFFIGY OF A NUN

t

(Sixteenth Century)

Infinite gentleness, infinite irony

Are in this face with fast-sealed eyes,

And round this mouth that learned in loneliness
How useless their wisdom is to the wise.

In her nun's habit carved, carefully, lovingly,
By one who knew the ways of womenkind,

This woman's face still keeps in its cold wistful calm,
All of the subtle pride of her mind.

180

These pale curved lips of hers holding theii hidden
smile,

Show she had weighed the world; her will was set;
These long patrician hands clasping the crucifix

Once having made their choice, had no regret.

She was of those who hoard their own thoughts
lovingly,

Feeling them far too dear to give away,
Content to look at life with the high insolent

Air of an audience watching a play.

If she was curious, if she was passionate.

She must have told herself that love was great,

But that the lacking it might be as great a thing
If she held fast to it, challenging fate.

She who so loved herself and her own warring
thoughts,

Watching their humorous, tragic rebound,
In her thick habit's fold, sleeping, sleeping,

Is she amused at dreams she has found?

Infinite tenderness, infinite irony,

Hidden forever in her closed eyes,
That must have learned too well in their long lone-
liness

How empty their wisdom is even to the wise.

The Bookman Sara Teasdale

181

POETAE MINORE8

Nightingales and larks are found
Not everywhere: they can't go round.

Room enough and more there is,
Warblers,, bluebirds, goldfinches.

Many a country would be dull
Should there be a cricket-lull.

Crickets, when the larks are flown.
Warm us with their undertone.

The Nation Albert Edmund Trombly

MATTER

When I was a live man,
A few years ago,

For all I might say,
For all I could do,

I got no attention ;

My life was so small
The world didn't know

I was living at alL

Such stolid indifference

I couldn't allow;
I swore that I'd matter,

Never mind how.

But after a lifetime
Of failure and prayer,

I broke my heart trying
To make the world care.

182

And now as I lie here,

Feeding ibis tree,
I am more to the world

Than it is to me.

The Century Magazine Louis Untermeyer

SALUTE TO THE TREES

Many a tree is found in the wood

And every tree for its use is good:

Some for the strength of the gnarled root.

Some for the sweetness of flower or fruit;

Some for shelter against the storm.

And some to keep the hearth-stone warm;

Some for the roof, and some for the beam,

And some for a boat to breast the stream;

In the wealth of the wood since the world began

The trees have offered their gifts to man.

But the glory of trees is more than their gifts :

'Tis a beautiful wonder of life that lifts,

From a wrinkled seed in an earth-bound clod,

A column, an arch in the temple of God,

A pillar of power, a dome of delight,

A shrine of song, and a joy of sight!

Their roots are the nurses of rivers in birth;

Their leaves are alive with the breath of the earth ;

They shelter the dwellings of man; and they bend

O'er his grave with the look o a loving friend.

I have camped in the whispering forest of pines,
I have slept in the shadow of olives and vines ;
In the knees of an oak, at the foot of a palm
I have found good rest and slumber's balm.
And now, when the morning gilds the boughs

188

Of the vaulted elm at the door of my house,
I open the window and make salute:
"God bless thy branches and feed thy root!
Thou has lived bef ore, live after me,
Thou ancient, friendly, faithful tree."

Scribner's Magazine Henry van Dyke

OF A BEAUTIFUL POEM

(Three Voices)

I
Lifeblood and spirit-fire

Went to its making:
Surely the Maker found

(His for the taking)
All a kind word could show

Of gracious living,
And happy stars could give,

Lavishly giving
Honor and ease fulness,

Wealth to buy leisure,
Beauty of man's device,

Nature's high pleasure,
White moons to glorify

Times of far roaming,
Orchards in bloom to make

Sweet the home-coming

II
Lifeblood and spirit-fire

Went to its making:
Surely the Maker found

Naught for free taking.
It was a warring soul

Flamed in such fashion,

184

Not from a heart at ease

Bled this pure passion.
Honor he served the while

Loud tongues decried him,
Beauty the more because

Much was denied him;
Pan in the darkness laid

Paths for his roaming,
Thorn-branch and rue were cut

For his home-coming.

Ill

Lrifeblood and spirit-fire

Went to its making;
Who knows what planet ruled

At its awaking?
Plenty may starve a soul,

Dearth feed another,
Joy bring to one the gift

Grief gives his brother;
One finds a Calvary

In Eden-places,
One builds all beauty from

Beauty's faint traces ....
Weal-star or bale-star may

Pilot the roaming,
Yet will a singer's heart

Sing at home-coming.

Mrs. Schuyler Van Rcnsselaer
The North American Review

185

EVANESCENCE

Slowly I pass among the blowing flowers
Catching my breath at their beauty as I go;
Familiar sweetness drifts across the hours,
Keen, lovely sweetness intimate as woe.
Yet by tomorrow, all the roses blown
Will be a sea of crimson on the grass,
And the naked trees will shudder at the moan
Of glowing winds that wake them as they pass.
In such wise love will vanish as the night ;
Each word of joy that you have sung to me
The years will silence with their dark delight
And the wild soaring after ecstasy
Will be a lyric bird that dares the sky
Only to fall to earth when storms beat by.

The Pagan Harold Final

SONNET

I have touched hands with peace and loveliness,

When the first breath of May crept through the trees;

Watched lovely flowers tremble in the breeze

I cannot say I have been comfortless.

Often the nights have whispered words to me;

With wonder I have watched a new day break,

Shaking its veils across a windy lake

The wind that stirred them, brought me ecstasy.

My heart can know no pain while beauty weaves
Quaint patterns in the corridors of thought,
Patterns of curving cloud and waving leaves;
All the indifference that time has wrought
Will softly pass, when I behold afar
The lovely beauty of an evening star.

The Granite Monthly Harold Final

186

I SHOULD LIKE TO LIVE IN A
BALLAD WORLD

I should like to live as a "ballad maid
Wlio loves., is lovedj and dies,
Or bears four sons as a matron staid
To her lord's amazed eyes.

Birth, and youth, and womanhood,
Ripe lips and golden hair,
Death and a lover understood,
And a black silk shroud to wear;

v

And all the long years left untold
The long hours left unsaid,
While swift, rare moments of life unfold
Bronze and silver and red.

I should like to live in a ballad world
While vivid lips of song
My leaping, lingering ?ale unfurled
Of a fate six stanzas long.

The Nation Eda Lou Walton

INSANITY

My mind is dark with shadows of a sea
That creeps unheard across a barren sand
And breaks unheard in silence over me.

Yet, smooth as any woman's breast is mine,

My limbs sweep slenderly in line,

My yearning arms^ voluptuous and white

Encircle night.

He clasps me close and lays his cooling lips

Against my throat and curves his darkling form,

187

His cloud-streaked hair across my bosom slips

And down he broods in storm.

Passion is freed, he rages in desire,

His arms press lightning from me and I lie

Formless and loose about him, higher, higher,

He lashes me and drops me from the sky

To prostrate lands,

And there beside me stretches in the sands

While strange dew shines against his hair

And all hours long the paled moon creeps by

To watch us lying there.

My mind is dark, yet smoother is my breast
Than any other woman's, I must rest,
Within these waters pain may slip from me,
My mind is dark with shadows of a sea.

The Measure Eda Lou Walto-

GOSPEL, WITH BANJO AND CHORUS

Dear ones, I have gambled, I have rolled the boi

It*$ the truth, praise God!
Hell was open, waiting with its howls and moans

There you ar*e f praise God!

Heaven's gates were opening, up steps the Lamb,
"Sister, aren't you sick of sin?" "Yes," I said,
am."

And it's the truth f praise God!
Sinner, aren't you going there, joining our j

cession
Everybody holy, making loud profession?

And there you are* praise God!

Dear ones, I have wallowed belly-deep in sin.

It's the truth* praise God!
I'd looked into the puddle, devil shoved me in.

There you are, praise God!

188

Jesus came and saved me, gave me cleanly clothes:
"Sister, rise with Jesus !** and my spirit rose.

And it's the truth, praise God!

Sinner, aren't you going there? All the sky rejoices,
Everything is sounding with the heavenly voices.

*4.nd there you are, praise God!

Dear ones, drink's a serpent it had me by the throat.

It's the truth, praise God!
Ever see a rattlesnake swallowed by a shote?

There you are, praise God!

Jesus came and grabbed me: "Sister, I declare!
Devil's in your gizzard, you can spit him out in
prayer."

And it's the truth, praise God!
Brother, aren't you going there? Streets are hung

with banners,
Cherubim and seraphim bow and show their manners.

And there you are, praise God!

Dear ones, I was loose Lord, Saturday night!

It's the truth, praise God!

Along would come a black man, along would come a
white.

There you are, praise God!

Jesus came and chased them, drove them with a whip :
"Sister," says our Savior, "watch the devil skip!"

And it's the truth, praise God!

Lover, aren't you going there, risen from the lowly,
Justified and sanctified and glorified and holy?

And there you are, praise God!

Dear ones, it's the truth!

Truth of God, praise God!

Sinner, it's the truth, it's the truth, praise God !

Sister, it's the truth, truth of God, praise God!

Brother, it's the truth, it's the truth, praise G&d!

Lover, it's the truth, it's the truth, the truth!

Mourner, it's the truth, and there you are, praise

God!

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Keene Wallis

189

LEGEND

I wonder where it could of went to . , *
I know I seen it just as plain:

A beautiful, big fairy city
Shinin* through the rain.

Rain, it was, not snow in 'winter 1

Special-order April weather
Tick] in* at our two faces

Pressed up close together.

Not a single soul was near us

Standin' out there on the bow;

When we passed another ferry
He says, sudden, "Now!"

Then I looked where he was pointin* ...

I seen a magic city rise . . .
Gleamin' windows, like when fields is

Full o' fireflies.

Towers "and palaces up in the clouds, like .

Real as real, but nice and blurred.
"Oh ..." I starts in but he whispers

"Hush I Don't say a word !

"Don't look long, and don't ast questions;

Elset you make the fairies sore . *
They won't let you even see it

Never any more.

"Don't you try to ver go there - , .

It's to dream of, not to find.
Ix>vely things like that is always

Mostly in your mind/'

190

Somethin* made me say, w lt's Jersey!"
Somethin* mean . . . He hollers, "Hell !

Now you done it, sure as shootin' . . .
Now you bust the spell !"

Sure enough, the towers and castles
Went like lightnin* outa sight. . . .

Nothin* there but filthy Jersey
On a drizzly night.

Vanity Fair John F. A. Weaver

CLIFFS

I took my longing up a cliff,

All alone, I looked on the sea
The surf, spread out like fans of lace
Rustled a soft sound up to me,
A gentle sound like sliding beads,
And wind hummed over the weeds.

Long and long ago a cliff

Lovers out of luck would leap,
And fall to cool their hearts like stones,
Or break like waves and fall asleep.
The sea now is the same, I knew,
And any cliff, I thought, would do.

I laid down my frock and frills,

I took gold pins from my hair,
And tip-toed to the tasselled edge,
Whispering a prayer,

That nothing else of me but foam
Should remain to carry home.

191

I was a curve of flame in the air I

I was a coal that scorched the sea!
The spray went up in a steamy cloud,
High and hissing over me,

And my body slid out o the blue,
Polished and dean and new.

I shook the bitterness from my eyes,

I laughed that I was alive I
So now I know I can dare to love
As long as I love to dive

And I am not the one to weep,
While there are cliffs to leap.

The North American Review Winifred Welles

DIANA

I am always carving arrows
Or polishing my bow,

Yet why I care for hunting
I do not seem to know.

For they are long and lonely,
The ways of wood and hill,

And it is wearisome to seek,
And sorrowful to kill.

But I am always hoping,

I -shall carry home some prize,

Like a white- feathered squirrel,
Or a fawn with blue eyes.

The Measure Winifred Welles

192

WOMEN AND ORCHARDS

An orchard in the valley,

An orchard on the hill,
One has flowers yet to flaunt

All in a lacy frill

One is bleak and still.

The apple trees were prudent
And calm of bud and root,

For it's the careful blossom.,
The cool, reluctant shoot,
That come to certain fruit.

Nearer to sky the peach trees,

Breathless, every one,
Lifted high pink petals

On tiptoe for a run

Tingling to the sun

Open-eyed and innocent,

Their tenderness was tossed

All in a loving impulse
For a rose kiss and lost
Hideously in frost.

Say what you will for beauty
That takes all spring to tell

How white it is brief blossoms.
That flamed before they fell,
Were beautiful as well.

So some can taste fulfillment

From a heavy valley tree,
While some climb up a hillside

Black with scars to be

Comforted like me.

'Contemporary Terse Winifred Welles

193

JE ALDUS i r

What? Did my spotted lily startle you?

Sorry I never thought to warn. It's true

You come upon it rather suddenly

Out o that vacant, dingy halL You see

I've lived with it and tended it so long,

I never seem to realize how strong

And harsh its colors are. In this back room

They fairly snarl and crackle through the gloon

Well, yes, a little sickish I admit.

I'll open up the window for a bit

And let a gust of lilacs in There, now,

You watch him in the field while I tell how

I came to find it first

I guess you know

How much he likes to be alone, to go
Forever wand'ring off across the hill,
Or mooning 'round the ruins of the mill,
Or somewhere, anywhere it seems to be,
So long as he can get away from me.
But once he was just opening the door
I felt I couldn't bear it any morel
I snatched his hat and cried, **What right have yoi
Always to leave me so? I'm going too'"
And went.

There was a blurring kind of Tain,
That soaked the world up in a slow, grey stain;
And mist like phlegm You couldn't hear a sound
On any side, except the one the ground
Made, ogreishly sucking at our shoes.
I knew that low road was the one he'd choose
To plague me ! So I led, and set a pace
Across the marsh that fairly made him race
Although for all of road or roof or tree,
We might as well have stumbled undersea.
No wonder I stopped short and screamed out loud,
When that thing jabbed its hot fangs through tin
cloud

Around our feet!

"It's just a flower/' he said,
"A happy, lonely lily, warm and red."

I couldn't stand the way he kept so mild,

And spoke as if I were a fool or child.

"Pick it I" I cried, "If red can rise in mud,

And warmth in mist, there's hope for flesh and blood !**

He stared beyond the fog

"Oh let it stay,

A wild thing fades if you take it away."
I knew then what my man was thinking of,
His other wife that Gypsy his first love
And growing sentimental with his past,
As if in spite of death, she were his last.
So I stooped down and clutched it in my hand,
Gasping as if it were a burning brand,
And tore it up, leaves, blossom, roots and all !
He never said a word, but straight and tall
Stalked slowly off, and like an oily screen,
The grey, unrolling film slid in between.
I waited 'til his footsteps in the mire
Smeared over too.

I hid my flower of fire
Beneath my coat, but even then it shone
Enough to light the long way home alone.
He said that it would fade. I made it thrive.
Close to the window pane it seemed alive
As her own face that used to hover there,
With eyes as black as dungeons under hair
Tawny and wild and bound with red. For hours
She'd watch that curve of road between the flowers.
She'd watch, but nothing came until the day
The hearse drove up to carry her away.
I liked my lily for awhile, but now
It's bloated, glowering, terrible Somehow
It lived so easily, it grew too well.
I often fear it and the bloody spell
It seems to cast. Even the walls and floors

195

Are mottled with its shadow. Lock the doors
And blind the windows but I still can see
The flicker of its poison burn towards me.
And then that odor almost as if slime
Could ooze along the air. Many a time
Those sluggish sweetnesses uncoil and creep

Upstairs to slink into my very sleep

I guess you're right fancies like these are bad,
And apt to make folks think you're kind of mad.
But they're familiar ones to me, you know
I plucked that lily twenty years ago.

Contemporary Verse Winifred Welles

IMPLACABLE BEAUTY

On the wide waste the web of twilight trembling,

Hangs low with stars and night,
The dying day, in the worn west dissembling,

Crowns his defeat with light.

Here by the sands and dunes my soul sinks crying,

By beauty stabbed to death
"O in the dusk of the world let me too, dying,

Mingle with these my breath !"

There is no answer. In the cold heavens shining,

Star trembles unto star;
The virgin moon in the clear west declining

Hangs, like a scimitar.

Contemporary Verse John Hall Wheelock

196

THE POET TELLS OF HIS LOVE

How shall I sing of Her that is

My life's long rapture and despair

Sorrow eternal, Loveliness,

To whom each heart-beat is a prayer.

Utterly, endlessly, alone

Possessing me, yet unpossessed
The darkj the drear Beloved One

That takes the tribute of this breast.

Daemon disconsolate, in vain,

In vain petitioned and implored,
How many a midnight of disdain

Darkly and dreadfully adored.

Beauty, the virgin, evermore

Out of these arms with laughter fled
Vanished ... a voice by slope and shore

Haunting the world, Illusion dread !

Most secret Siren, on whose coast

'Mid spray of perishing song are hurled

All desolate lovers, all the lost
Soul and half-poets of the world !

Through sleepless nights and lonely days
In tears and terror served and sought

Light beyond light, the supreme Face

That blinds the acioring eyes of Thought!

How long shall I sing of Her! Nay all,
All song, all sorrow, all silence of

This desperate heart, that is Her thrall,
Trembles and tries to tell my love,

Scribner'* Magazine John Hall WJieelock

197

THE SORROWFUL MASQUERADE

Even as to a music, stately and sad,

The young girls' feet begin to move in a danee^

And curiously for joy shift and advance;

So to a mournful waltz, sombre and sweet;

All laughing things move with delighted feet,

So all things that draw light and laughing breath

Move to the mournful waltz of life and death.

Comedy is a girl dancing in time

To the tragic pipes, sorrowful and sublime;

And ever she laughs back, and as she skips

Mimics the mournful music with her lips;

Then for sheer anger at her own pretense

Sobs violently at her own vehemence,

And mocks her tears. But when the pipings sleep

She needs must cover up her face and weep*

Poetry, A Magazine of Perse John Hall Wlieelock

PLAINT

Brief is Man's travail here and transitory
His wrath that soon is spent,
Brief his lament,

Lifted in vain against the harsh decrees
Of the high Destinies
That move not to the measure of his woe:
Even as snow

On sunny meadows, as a lover's story
Told in an April twilight long ago,

Brief is he even as these
His little hour of tumult, or of glory

And to what end devised we may not guess,
Considering, as we go

198

Toward the same shadows, bearing the same spar]
His vanity and empty nothingness.

Yet in the mighty Dark

Dear is the spirit; grievously we know

Earth has one burden more, one soul the les

AW* Well John Hall WkeelocJe

THE RETURN

In some far and lonely midnight

I shall arise as in a dream,
And part dark curtains on a strange room

Where mysterious candles gleam.

I shall open an unknown book

In that weird and wind-stirred place^

And come upon a poem
With a sad face.

I shall listen to my dead heart's cry
Faint through the years that are gone,

And I shall feel over my shoulder
The Silence looking on.

And very softly he will touch me,
And I shall turn toward the gloom;

He will take my arm and quietly
Lead me out of the room.

Poetry, A Magazine <>f Verse Oscar William*

199

THE GOLDEN FLEECE

I know that life is Jason,

And that beauty is the witch-maiden helping him.

I know that the soft, luminous night of stars

Is the golden fleece he is seeking.

I know that in the beginning

He sowed the boulders, the teeth of dead ages,

And the innumerable armored cities have arisen.

I know that he has thrown among them love and

desire,
And they have warred and shall war with each other

until the end.

And if you doubt the least word I have said,
Come out on the dark beach some strange summer

night

And watch the huge quivering serpent of the ocean
Still coiled around the trunk of the tree of paradise.

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Oscar Williams

CANOPUS

Up from the smooth dust of the road they turned.
The shivery spider cables spread a net
Across the climbing path that teased and burned
Their faces, which the dew-sprayed leaves left wet;
Defenseless cheeks were clawed by trespassing

bramble

And vagabonding sumach. Their fingers met,
Anchors to steady each unsteady scramble.

Their nervous feet struck stones, that toppled bver
The terraced outcrop, and, at last let loose,
Clattered to rest against stray tufts of clover.
Boughs broke off in their grasp, and were no use,
And underneath the brittle twigs snapped shrilL
At length the firmer sassafras and spruce
Gave hand-holds as they met the steeper "hilt.

200

"We'll rest." He wiped an arm across a brow

Fouled with the twitching spider-web, and leant

Against a low dead stump, steadying now

Her passage toward him, much as though he meant

To hold the pressure till her breathless face

Encountered his ; then, suddenly continent,

He loosed her hand. She poised in the dark place,

Her heart pounding, gasping as though distressed.
She smoothed a dampened, restless strand of hair.
A smile colored her echoing words: "We'll rest.
Jt is steep." Then they sniffed the thinner air,
Sharply brought closer, as the conquered rise
Made clear that they at length had mounted' where
There were no more of censoring city eyes.

The isolation was a sudden thrust
Cleaving them, like a whispered word of warning.
He brushed ahead; a startled smoke of dust
Trailed like a widening curtain. Quickly scorning
The stiff precipitous way, she followed higher
Through crushing shadow and jutting branch, adorn-
ing
This path that pointed toward an unseen fire.

Partly to dull two fires the one that charred

Her cheeks, the one still deeper she called out:

"You think we'll see it?" He was climbing hard,

So far ahead, his answer was a shout.

"I think we may." He waited, eyes uncertain,

Until her sky-lit face came near, to rout

The dark, as daybreak tears night's shadowy curtain.

He guided to the summit. Fingers tingled

Uneasily, driven thoughts clung and caressed;

The sharp throbs of their breathing met and mingled.

She sank in a grass cushion on the crest,

Content to forget far fire and its far arc.

She settled into a tender bladed nest,

His body lengthened upward in the dark,

201

Or so its seemed to her, "It's nearly ten ;
An hour, and it should clear the horizon haze,
Squatting right above Sand Mountain. Then
It's ours, if the cloudy August heaven plays
No tricks." He held a tree-trunk close, instead
Of something longed for; she leaned in a daze,
Smoothing her knees as if it had been a head.

"A visitor," he thought aloud, "who takes
One burning, scornful look, and never more.
He leaves to flutter over Andean lakes,
To halve the sky of some lost, jungled shore,
To flame with the Southern Cross and Sirius,
Raining hot madness on lush midnight brakes,
Gilding chill seas, frigid, unamorous."

She pondered. "You have seen him?" "Once/' he

said,

"As I saw Mercury once, a golden bubble
Poised just above the dawn's disheveled bed,
For one pale glimpse." Her fingers clutched the

stubble

Lying beneath them, clawed it from its home;
She held her voice level with much trouble.
"What are the stars but flecks of fiery foam "

"What are the stars but sources of that flame
That burns and scorches in the stifling sun,
That flares in us " His gesturing fingers came
Across hers suddenly, trembled, as if to run
In panic from a long suspected danger,
Then calmed into a hot oblivion,
Clasping her own, knowing her hand no stranger.

The night's mysterious wings pulsed through the dark,
The night's mysterious noises cracked and shivered,
And where their fingers met a visible spark
Seemed to leap forth at them, and pulsed and quivered
202

^hroughout them both. Their thickened tongues were

dumb,

'he pretty words of star-lore undelivered,
''he pretty words that found no breath could come.

le sank into the stubble by her side,

.caving a blankness in the upper night;

lis lips leant in their urgency of pride

Cowards her eyes, that made the blackness bright.

lis lips spoke only to the reddened cheek,

aid settled to a long-denied delight

Jpon the goal they had not dared to seek.

'here was a gasping silence on the crest,

Phile the wind whined and the thin stars passed over ;

'here was a gasping rapture in each breast,

aid her will bent as wind bends low the clover.

aid a flame rose to its magnificent noon,

aid a flame vanished. Each exalted lover

'elt the mad ecstasy and the piercing tune

>f love higher than hills that brush the sky,
>f love fiercer than suns that whiten space,
)ie in their high magnificence, yet die
'o a still radiance in the friendly place
'hat seemed to promise higher ecstasy
'orever stamped on each beloved's face,
'elling them: "This is immortality."

Fnseen, while love's proud beacon flared and swept

cross their hearts, a sudden sullen glow

[ad lifted over the hill beyond, and crept,

Diminishing yet brightening, in slow

jnd stately curving path so high, and then

ent back toward the dimness, slid below

he nnl.it bulk of the huge hills again.

203

Without a word they knew it. His face burning-,
"We can return" ; but they knew, at his word,
That there are paths that do not know returning;
And as their downward-stumbling footsteps stirred
The stony steep, the roadway dust, the gray
And morning hush, each rustle made or heard
Sang to them they had found the starrier way.

The Nation Clement Wood

VELVET SHOES

Let us walk in the white snow

In a soundless space;
With footsteps quiet and slow,

At a tranquil pace,

Under veils of white lace.

I shall go shod in silk,

And you in wool,
White as a white cow's milk.

More beautiful

Than the breast of a gull.

We shall walk through the still

In a windless peace;
We shall step upon white down,

Upon silver fleece,

Upon softer than these.

We shall walk in velvet shoes:

Wherever we go
Silence will fall like dews

On white silence below.

We shall walk in the snow.

Poetry, 'A Magazine of Verse EUnof Wflie

204

THE EAGLE AND THE MOLE

Avoid the reeking herd.
Shun the polluted flock,
Live like that stoic bird
The eagle of the rock.

The huddled warmth of crowds
Begets and fosters hate;
He keeps, above the clouds,
His cliff inviolate.

When flocks are folded warm,
And herds to shelter run,
He sails above the storm,
He stares into the sun.

If in the eagle's track
Your sinews cannot leap,
Avoid the lathered pack,
Turn from the steaming sheep.

If you would keep your soul
From spotted sight or sound,
Live like the velvet mole;
Go burrow underground.

And there hold intercourse
With roots of trees and stones,
With rivers at their source,
And disembodied bones.

The New Republic Elinor Wylie

205

BRONZE TRUMPETS AND SEA WATER
On Turning Latin Verse Into English- Verse

Alembics turn to stranger things
Strange things : but never while we live
Shall magic turn this bronze that sings
To singing water in a sieve.

The trumpet eers of Caesar's guard
Salute his rigorous bastions
With ordered bruit: the bronze is hard
Though there is silver in the bronze.

Our mutable tongue is like the sea,
Curled wave, and shattering thunder-fit :
Dangle in strings of sand shall be
Who smooths the ripples out of it !

TJte New Republic Elinor Wylie

THE TORTOISE IN ETERNITY

Within my house of patterned horn
I sleep in such a bed
As men may keep before they're born
And after they are dead.

Sticks and stones may break their bones,
And words may make them bleed:
There is not one of them who own
An armour to his need.

Tougher than hide or lozenged bark
Snow-storm and thunder proof,
And quick with sun and thick with dark
Is this my darling roof.

206

Their troubled dreams of death and birth
Pulse mother-o '-pearl to black:
I bear the rainbow bubble Earth
Square on my scornful back.

The New Republic Elinor Wylle

THE CHURCH-BELL

As I was lying in my bed
I heard the church-bell ring;
Before one solemn word was said
A bird began to sing.

I heard a dog begin to bark

And a bold crowing cock;

The bell, between the cold and dark;

Tolled. It was five o'clock.

The church-bell tolled, and the bird
A clear true voice he had;
The cock crew, and the church-bell rang,,
I knew it had gone mad.

A hand reached down from the dark skieg,
It took the bell-rope thong,
The bell cried "Look ! Lift up your eyes !"
The clapper shook to song.

The iron clapper laughed aloud,

Like clashing wind and wave;

The bell cried out "Be strong and prond!*'

Then, with a shout, "Be brave!"

207

The rumbling of the market-carts,

The pounding of men's feet

Were drowned in song ; "Lift up your hearts I"

The sound was loud and sweet.

Slow and slow the great bell
It hung in the steeple mute:
And people tore its living tongue
Out by the very root.

The Nation Elinor Wylic

208

THE YEARBOOK

OF AMERICAN POETRY

1921

Index of Authors

Acosta, Mercedes de
Alois, Eary
Ailing, Kenneth S,

Anderson, Maxwell

Armstrong

B o de nhe im , Maxu~ e 11

Bowen, Stirling

Bangs , John Kendricjc
Baker >&arle Wilson
Bates, Katharine Lee
Belleiuann, Henry

Be'net , William Hose
Benshimol, Ernest

Bishop, John Peaie
Bradford, Gamaliel

Burr, Amelia J.

Cades , Hazel E.
Caughey, Mary L.
Conkling, Grace H,

B., H*

Dargan, Olive Tilford
Deutsch, Babette

Eyans,Abbie Huston

Unreality 36

To one vmo asks 6

Rain 7
On the passing of
the last fire horse
from Maiuiatten

Island 7

Ecstasy 8

Ft Agnes norning 3

Emptying ashes 9

lujapsody 10

Feminine talk 11

Pine trees 13
Cartoons of the

French Revolution i4

My ghosts 15

Ti:e Lord speaks 17

Brief life 18

Winter ourial 18

Sand i-iills 18
"Junkets" ,imn t ortall9

A banquet 21

Wife's song 21

Hunchback S3

Hjr delight 23

Wholesome hell 24

Warning 24

Typhoon 25

Peel of brambles 25

Theocritus 26
To Hilda of her

roses 26
Btiae drar eii.eitibers

Crete 27
Phaedra, rebukes

Hippoj.yta 29

Prancesca 30

Lacrixtae rerum 37

Penreb's tomb 38

Knowledge 38

Portraits 39

Moi.ents of beauty 4B

Mountains 4

Fieke, Arthur B,
Flanner, Hildegarde

Fletcher, John Gould

Flexner, Hortense
Frost, Robert

Garrett , Louis Ayres

Gauss, E.G.
Gessler, Clifford F.

Giltiuan, Caroline
Gray , Agnes .
Greenhood, David
Hall, Amanda B.
Hall, Basel

Hill, Frank Ernest
Hersey, Marie Louise

Hey ward, BuBose
Inman, Arthur C.
Jackson, Winifred V*

Book of, lu !Tang

Chu 43

Prelude 43

47
47
43
49
49
50

51

57
57

58
59
60
61

62
63
64
65

66

68
68
69
69
70
71
75
77

78
79

Allegiance
Silence
Stevedores
.Purchase
Hills icte thaw
Misgiving
Seed of being
versed in country-
things

Star in a stone-
boat

Hoan ex. tie ark
^y ue black folics
am so good
Salem, condita
1626
Prayer

Uevertneless
Interpreter
After THbtistler
Worker
Plumber song
Sands
Spring from a
window

Sunlight through
a window
To a door
Stairways
Gray veil
Loniiness
Repititions
Boras an
Upper air
To Robinson Crusoe

Gamesters all
Francisco Pizarro
Cobbler in the
moon
Finality
Tricksy tune

85
88
89
93

, Winifred V,

Janson, Ellen

Johnson, James W*
Jones, Howard M
Laird, William
Low, Benjaadn,R,C
Lowell,

MacDonald, Jessie
Marks Jeanette
Masters , Sdgar Lee

lictdleton, Scudder
Millay, Edna FtV.

Morley, Christopher

Morton, David

O'Briun, Edward J,
PC tterson, Antoinette

Percy, William A.

Plnctoey, Josephine

Ho of in it

Purchase

Japanese night-

song

Shadowy -under w

window

Creation

Cosmos flower

Oh, when I die

Too high

House with the

marble steps

Texas

Flute-priest song

for rain

RhyiLe out of

motley

Grave song

Prayer

Vanished years

Keats to Parjny

Brawne

To an inhabitant

of Paradise 114

Passer mortuus

est 114

To a poet that

died young 116

Sonnet 116

Keats 118

Tavern of the

fools 117

School boy r-;ads

his Iliad 180

Acquaintance ISO

Exit 181

Ma moonlit garden

96
97

98

98
98
101
103
104

105
107

109

111
111
11$

j.13

In the delta
Brittany love song

1B6
Courage 136

Holy women
In the barn

^ HaroldT*
Rioge, Zola

Riggs, Catherine
Hitter, Margaret Ted

Roberts, Elizabeth,
Robinson, jSdward A,

Rorty , James
Rosen thai, David
Sanders, 3frrmy V.

Barrett, Lew
Saul, George B

Soollard, Clinton
Seiffert, Marjorie A.

Speyer, Leonora

Stevens, Wallace

Stork, Charles W*
Suckow, Ruth

Tagg ar d , Ge ne vi eye

Dream ig
Cactus seed !&<
Altitude 13,
After storm 130
Hockery 131
Sonnet to a plough-
wozuan of JSTorway
Water noises
My heart 133
Jiany are called 134
Long race 134
Vain &ratituities

136

Lost anchors 135
Monaanock through
the trcses 136
California
aissonance 136
Ydone sings to
his people 138
Hilltop duet 140
Adelaide Crapsey 141
Box of God i4
As the violets
came 155

Great event 141
Shop 150

Two women 156
iTocturne 15 r /
Portrait of a lady

15t

Therapy 15

Pet 163

To a little 12th
century figure of
the crucified
Christ

Victory 16d

Mary Magdalene 162[
Measure me, skyj 164'
Cortege for '

Rosenbloom 16'J

To Joseph Severn 166
Odd ones Ibt 1

Grappa Schuler
Boys and girls
Ice age 171

Tiaa, Adui

Teasaale

Trombly , Albert !
Untenueyer, Louis
Van Ijyke, Henry

Va*i Iier-soel^r, Mrs*
Vina 1 * , Ear eld
Walton, lilcLa Lou

Wallis* Keene

Weaver, John V.A*
Welles, Winifred

Wheelock, Jonn Hall

Williams, Oscar

Wood, Cleruent
Wylie t Elinor

Wild plum 177

Dark cup 177

The mastery 180

Effigy of a nun 180
Poetae ..mores IBS
Matter 183

Salute to the
trees 183

Of a beautirul 184
poem

Evanescence 186

Sonnet 186

I should like to 187
live in a ballad
world

Insanity 187,

Gospel with a
ban^o and chorus 18S
Legand 190

Clilfs 193

Diana 19^

Women and crcnaras

IttJ

Jealousy 194

Implacable beauts 196
Poet tells of his
love 19?

Sorrowful niasuueradc

Plaint 19

He turn 19

Golden fleece 30J

Velvet shoes
Eagle arid the
mole SOt

Bronze trumpets S0(
and sea water
Tortoise in eter it]

Church-bell

Ta#gard, Genevieve

Boys and girls
Ice ae

3

INDEX OF POEMS

Anon. GOOD KING WENCESLAUS, The Century Magazine,
January; THE DEMPSEY AND THE CABPENITEB, Th*
Nation, June 15; TORQ.UEMADA UP To DATE, TKe
Nation, July 20.

a Cheavasa, MOIREEN Fox. DEZDBE, Poetry, A Magazfae of
Verse, January; DISILLUSION, Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, January; SILENCE, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, January.

Aborn, Maude. A GARDEN, The Granite Monthly, July.

Adams, Franklin P. To A LADY TROUBLED BY INSOMNIA,
The Bookman, May.

Adams, J. Donald. TINDER, The Dial, August, 1920.

Adams, "William C. THE STORY OF PEMIGEWASSET, The
Granite Monthly, February.

Adler, Mortimer J. THE FEARLESS, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, January.

Addison, Medora C. MY SONGS, Contemporary Verse, May,
1921 ; RICHES, Contemporary Verse, May, 1921 ; SHIPS,
Contemporary Verse, May, 1921; THE QUEST, Con-
temporary Verse, May, 1921.

Aiken, Conrad. Air OLD MAN- SEES HEMSEUP, The Dial,
March, 1921; BATTERSEA BRIDGE, The Century, June;
MIDNIGHT, The Century, June; THE OPEK WINDOW,
The Century, May; THE FIGURE HEAD, The Century,
June; THE MTTJESTOSTE, The "Measure, March, 1921;
THIRD MOVEMENT FROM "THE PILGRIMAGE OF FESTTTS.*'
HE ENTERS THE FOTJST OF DEPARTED GODS, The Measure,
May, 1921; TWELIGHT, BYE, SUSSEX, The Century,
June.

Aldis, Mary. To ONE WHO ASKS, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, January.

Alexander, Hartley. AMERINDIAN AIR, The Nation, Febru-
ary 16.

Altrocchi, Julia Cootey. THE DBEAMERS or DEATH, Poetry,
A Magazine of Verse, November, 1920.

5211

Alwood, Lister Raymond. A RHYME OF VEBS LIBRE, Tit*
Detroit Sunday News, January 16; INCOGNITO, The
Detroit Sunday News, June 27; MAKER OF LITTLK
SONGS, The Detroit Sunday News, May 22; SPRING
IN THE CITY, The Detroit Sunday News, April 3; THE
FIRST ROBIN, The Detroit Sunday News, April IT.

Atwood, Sylvia. LJTTLE HOUSES, New Numbers, March 28.

Allen, Hervey. CONFESSION, Contemporary Verse, May,
1921; DESPAIR, Contemporary Verse, May, 1921; THE
WINGLESS VICTORY, The New Republic, August 18,
1920.

Allen, Willis Boyd. THE SHRINE, Scribner's Magazine,
October, 1920.

Ailing, Kenneth Slade. BLUEJAY, Contemporary Verse,
March, 1921; ESCAPES, The Measure, May, 1921; ON

THE PASSING OF THE LAST FlRE HoBSE FROM MAN-
HATTAN ISLAND, The New York Evening Post; SLEEP
A FRAGMENT, Contemporary Verse, March, 1921 ; THE
FINAL SUNSET, The Midland, A Magazine of the
Middle West, February; THREE POEMS: RAIN, Con-
temporary Verse, March.

Anderson, Dorothy. A LITANY, Contemporary Verse, Janu-
ary, 1921.

Anderson, Maxwell, "LOOKING Our UPON THE WORLD, Con-
temporary Verse, October, 1920; NIGHT IN THE
QUEEN'S GARDEN, Contemporary Verse, October, 1920 ;
OIL-DERRICKS AT DAWN, Contemporary Verse, Octo-
ber, 1920; THRALL TO DUST, Contemporary Verse,
October, 1920; ST. AGNES' MORNING, The New Repub-
lic, March 16; EMPTYING ASHES, The New Republic,
January 19

Andrews, Anabel C. ABSENT, The Granite Monthly, Decem-
ber, 1920.

Andrews, Mary R. S. CBEATTON, Scribner's Magazine, April;

HOMESICK, Scribner's Magazine, December, 1920.
Annett, Albert AUTUMN, The Granite Monthly, November,

1920; JANUARY, The Granite Monthly, January.
Armstrong, Martin, THE BUZZARDS, The Century Magazine,

November, 1920; RHAPSODY, The Century Magazine,

December, 1920.
Ashwin, E. Allen. TRANSLATIONS FROM THE ANACREONTIC

POEMS, The Dial, April.
Auslander, Joseph. A SANDAL STRING, The Measure, July*

1921; DOWNPOUR, Contemporary Verse, May, 1921;

LOVE AND THE GARLANDS, The Measure, July, 1921;

THE RETURN, Contemporary Verse, May, 1921.

212

Austin, Mary. UK WORTHY LOVE, Poetry, A Magazine of

Verse, January; WHENCE? Poetry, A Magazine of

Verse, January.
Avery, Claribel Weeks. THE BEST BELOVED, The Granite

Monthly, May; THE GARDENER, The Granite Monthly,

July.

Baker, Karle "Wilson. ALTERNATIVES, The Texas Review,
April; FROM A LAKE IN THE WOODS, Contemporary
Verse, June, 1921; I SHALL BE LOVED AS QUIET
THINGS, Harper's Magazine, September, 1920; ORDERS,
The Texas Review, April; PRISONS, The Bookman,
May; SONG TO THE BEAT OP WINGS, The Texas Re-
view, April; STREET-ENDS, Contemporary Verse, No-
vember, 1920; THE CRIPPLE, The Texas Review, April;
THE LORD SPEAKS, The Yale Review, October, 1920;
To ONE WHO SMILES AT MY SIMPLICITY, The Meas-
ure, April, 1921; WINDOW-FIRE, The Texas Review,
April.

Baker, Leone. SPECTRE-THEME, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, January.

Baker, Martha S. SPRING, The Granite Monthly, April.

Balderston, K. C. I CLEANED MY HOUSE TODAY, The Granite
Monthly, April; ON READING THE FIRST CHAPTER OF
MR. WELLS' OUTLINE OF HISTORY, The Granite Month-
ly, June.

Banks, Jr., Theodore H. VICTORY, Everybody's Magazine,
March.

Banning, Kendall. THE STRANGERS OF THE INN, The Grin-
nell Review, June.

Barclay, Robert E. QUESTIONS, Contemporary Verse,
August, 1920.

Barklev, Frederick R. CROW'S NEST, The Detroit Sunday
News, April 24; FIRST NIGHT EN ROUTE, The Detroit
Sunday News, April 17

Barnett, Henry. OFF THE CHINA COAST, Contemporary
Verse, February, 1921.

Barr, F. Stringfellow. L'ENVOI, The Grinnel Review, Au-
gust, 1920.

Barrett, Wilton Agnew. LOST RIVER, Everybody's Maga-
zine, November, 1920.

Barrington, Pauline. INTERIM:, The Lyric West, April; THE
HILL, The Lyric West, April; THE HOUSE, The Lyric
West, April; THE MIRROR, The Lyric West, April;
WINGS, The lAfric West, April.

Bates, Katharine Lee. BRIEF LIFE, The Tale Review, Octo-
ber, 1920.

Beckhard, Arthur J. THE LIGHTS COMB ON, The Granite
Monthly, May.

Beals, Carleton, MEXICO, The New Republic, August 25,

1920.

Bellamann, Henry H. GARDENS ON THE SANTEE, The Meas-
ure, April, 1921 ; How QUIET WAS Mr SEA, The Mid-
land, A Magazine of the Middle West, November,
1920; MOONLIGHT, The Midland, A Magazine of th*
Middle West, November, 1920; SAND Hnxs, The
Measure, April, 1921; THE GATE, The Midland, A
Magazine of the Middle West, November, 1920; THE
RETURN, Tempo, June; WHEN THE WORLD GOES
HOME, The North American Review, April; WINTER
BURIAL, The North American Review, April
Belloc, Hilaire. TARANTELLA, The Century, ApriL
Benit, Laura. HUMOR, The Literary Review, N. Y. Evening

Post.

Benlt, Stephen Vincent AZRAEL'S BAH, The Bookman,
February; DIFFERENCE, The New Republic, June 15;
FLOOD TIDE, The Yale Review, October, 1920; JULY,
The Bookman, July; OPERATION, Contemporary Verse,
December, 1920.

BenSf^ William Rose. ADVERSARY, The Century, May;

"JUNJCETS," IMMORTAL, The Literary Review, N. F.

Evening Post, February 26; THE FUGITIVE, The New

Republic, June 1.

Benson, Stella. Ir You WERE CARELESS, Poetry, A Magazine

of Verse, September, 1920.
Benvenuta, O. P., Sister Mary. To P.AIN, The Catholic

World, June.
Bennett, Sara E. RHYTHM:, Contemporary Verse, June,

1921.
Betts, Thomas Jefferson. BALLADE OP FORGOTTEN WARS,

Sentinel's Magazine, August, 1920.
Beuick, Marshall Don. LSTEERCESSION; PREOCCUPATION; WAVE

SECRETS.

Blanchard, Amy E. A DAY, Everybody's Magazine, Novem-
ber, 1920.

Bickley, Beulah "Vlck. MY STAR-FLOWER, Tempo, June.
Binns, Archie. GOING HOME, The Measure, April, 1921.
Bishop, John Peale. THE HUNCHBACK, Poetry, A Magazine

of Verse, June.

Blunden, Edmund. ALMSWOMEN, The Century, April.
Bodenheim, Maxwell EMOTIONAL MONOLOGUE, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, May; FEMININE TALK, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, May; PHILOSOPHICAL DIALOGUE,
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, May; PINE TREES, The
Literary Review, IV. 7. Evening Post, May 14;
RATTLESNAKE MOUNTAIN FABLE, The Tale Review,

214

October, 1920; SAPPHO ANSWERS ARISTOTLE, Poetry,
A Magazine of Verse, May.

Bogan, Louise. WORDS FOR DEPARTURE, The Measure, April,
1921.

Bonner, Amy. POISE, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, May;
REVELATIONS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, May.

Bornholdt, Florence Parker. FOR I WAS WED TODAY, The
Lyric West, April; (Poem from "The Wild Heart")
THE MAT.TBU HILLS, The Lyric West, April.

Borst, Richard Warner. IN A MAIL ORDER HOTTSE, The Mid-
land, A Magazine of the Middle West, March.

Bowman, J. E. POET AND PILGRIM, The Granite Monthly,
May.

Bowen, Stirling CARTOONS OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION:
I. MIRABEAU, II. THEROIGNE DE MERICOURT, III.
CAMILLE DESMOUUNS, The Measure, July, 1921;
CHINATOWN, The Detroit Sunday News, December 12,
1920; GALLERY NIGHT, The Detroit Sunday News,
February 20; ON THE HILLTOP, The Detroit Sunday
News, January 30; SNOW, The Detroit Sunday News,
January 2; SPRING SONG, The Detroit Sunday News,
August 22, 1920; THE CITY CHILDREN, The Detroit
Sunday News, April 17; To A GIRL OF CHINATOWN,
The Detroit Sunday News, October 10, 1920.

Bowman, Forrest. DISILLTTSION, The Detroit Sunday News,
January 16.

Boyd, Marion M. INDIAN SUMMER, Contemporary Verse,
October, 1920.

Boogher, Susan M. CUMULATIVE DEATH, Harper's Maga-
zine, February; FuGtmvE, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, November, 1920.

Booth, Edward Townsend. To AN AUTHENTIC PRIEST,
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, April; To A NEW
ENGLAND GIRL, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, April.

Bradford, Gamaliel. MY DELIGHT, Contemorary Verse,
November, 1920; THE COMFORTABLE GRAVE, Contemr
porary Verse, November, 1920; WHOLESOME HELL,
Contemporary Verse, November, 1920.

Brant, Irving N. THE WILD ROSE, The Midland, A Maga-
zine of the Middle West, February.

Bridges, Downham. ARGUMENT, The Sonnet, February;
ENIGMA, The Sonnet, February; MANUMISSION, The
Sonnet, February; REFUGE, The Sonnet, February.

Bridgman, Amy Sherman. COLD, Contemporary Verse,
January, 1921.

Bronner, Jr., Leonard. INSPIRATION, The Granite Monthly,
May.

215

Brown, Abbie Farwell. CIPHERS, Contemporary Verse,

October, 1920 ; PIRATE TREASURE, Contemporary Verse,

October, 1920.
Brown, Alice. APPLES, Harper's Magazine, February; THE

EVER CHANGING, Harper's Magazine, July; THE

ADVENTURER, The North American Review, January.
Brownsell, Baker. THE WAVE, The Dial, December, 1920.
Bryher, W. WILD ROSE, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,

December, 1920.
Bugbee, Ferley R. A METEOR HEADSTONE, The Granit*

Monthly, December, 1920; THE HILLSIDE'S CHIEF, Th*

Granite Monthly, May.
Bunker, John. THE INN, The Catholic World, November,

1920.
Bunner, Anne. THE SIXTY-NINTH OP THE "FRAGMENTS" OP

SAPPHO, Scribner's Magazine, October, 1920.
Burnaby, Hugh. ON THE THAMES, Scribner's Magazine,

December, 1920.
Burt, Maxwell Struthers. DUETTO: SUMMER, Scribner's

Magazine, July.
Burr, Amelia Josephine. ENOUGH TOR ME, The Outlook,

March 16; ISLAND, The Outlook, July 6; THE LITTLE

SON, Scribner's Magazine, April; THE WEDDING

JOURNEY, Everybody's Magazine, November, 1920;

Two SONGS, Contemporary Verse, January ; TYPHOON,

The Bookman, June; WARNING, The Outlook.
Busch, Jr., Briton Niven. INARTICULATE, Contemporary

Verse, September, 1920.
Bynner, Witter. THE WANDERER, The Nation, January 12.

Cades, Hazel Rawson. FEEL OP BRAMBLES, Poetry, A

Magazine of Verse, January.
Cameron, Ian. A WOOD ASTER, Contemporary Vera*,

August, 1920.

Cameron, Roy. DEAD, Contemporary Verse, June, 1921.
Campbell, Constance. THE SONG OP RAIN AND THE HOMES

OP THE DEAD, The Century, March.
Campbell, Joseph. CHIAROSCURO, The Measure, July, 1921 ;

THE CROWS, The Freeman, March 23; THE CURFEW,

The Freeman, January 26.
Carlin, Francis. AND WAS MADE WISE, The Catholic World,

January; THE CARDINAL'S HAT, The Catholic World,

May; THE GOOD SHEPHERDESS, America, December 25,

1920; THE SHEPHERD'S RETURN, The Literary Review,

IV. Y. Evening Post, March 19; THE Six WOUNDS,

The Catholic World, March.
Carpenter, Rhys. CARILLON, Contemporary Verse, April,

1921.

Gary, Robert. POEST AND PSNSE, New Numbers, March.

Carrington, James B. MY LITTLE HOUSE OP DREAMS,
Scribner's Magazine, July.

Cassd, Miriam. SLAG, The Midland, A Magazme of the
Middle West, January.

Caughey, Mary Lapsley. THEOCRITUS, North American
Review, June.

Chapman, John Jay. CLOUDSJ Scribner's Magazine, August,
1920.

Chappell, Jeanette. WHAT NEED To FEAR, Tempo, June.

Cheney-Nichols, Beth. SPRING, The Century, April.

Christoph, Charles de Guire. HERONS, Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, January; IMPROVISATION, Poetry, A Maga-
zine ojf Verse, January; NEIGHBOR MOON, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, January; OLD PLACES, Poetry,
A Magazine of Verse, January; PROFILE, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, January; THOUGHT OP WOMEN,
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, January,

Ciolkowska, Muriel. BACKWATER (A Children's Tale),
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, May; PRESENCE, Poetry,
A Magazine of Verse, May; SNOW, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, May.

Clark, Jr., B. Preston. YOUTH, The Outlook, September 1,
1920; TWILIGHT, Everybody's Magazine, June.

Clark, Martha Haskell. IN IRISH RAIN, Scribner's Magazine,
May; LITTLE HOUSE OP CHRISTMAS, Scribner*9 Maga-
zine, December, 1920; THE CHILDREN, The Outlook,
December 1, 1920.

Clark, Thomas Curtis. REVELATION, The Boston Transcript,
February 5; THE CHRISTIAN, The Boston Transcript,
February 5; THE HAND THAT WROUGHT, The Boston
Transcript, February 5.

Clarkin, Lucy Gertrude. A PRAYER, The Catholic World,
October, 1920.

Cline, Leonard Lanson. CREPUSCULE, The Detroit Sunday
News, December 19, 1920; SONNET (To an Unknown
Lady Seen at the Theatre), The Detroit Sunday News,
September 26, 1920; SUNSET (Onekama, Michigan),
The Detroit Sunday News, September 5, 1920;
TESTAMENT, The Detroit Sunday News, December 5,
1920; WAKEFULNESS, The Detroit Sunday News,
January 30.

Cloud, Virginia Woodward. LEAVES, Contemporary Verse,
October, 1920.

Cleghorn, Sarah N. THE SOCIALIST'S MARRIAGE, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, February.

Coates> Grace Stone THE INTRUDER, Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, April.

217

Coates, Florence Earle. THE VIOLIN, Berliner's Magazine,
February.

Code, Grant H. DEPARTED TRAVELERS, Tempo , June; FANCY
A GARDEN, Tempo, June; GRENUN A BIOGRAPHY,
Contemporary Verse, February, 1921.

Coffin, Robert P. DREAM FARM, Everybody's Magazine,
November, 1920; SUNDOWN, The Freeman, March 2.

Cole, M. R. THE IMMORTAL SPARK, The Granite Monthly,
June.

Coleman, Patrick. EMPARADISED, The Catholic World,
November, 1920.

Colum, Padraic. AN INDIAN SHOWING FEATS, The New
Republic, October 13, 1920; AUTUMN, The Dial, June;
LABURNUMS, The Nation, May 4; MEN ON ISLANDS,
The New Republic, November 10, 1920; LEGEND, The
Dial, October, 1920; REMINISCENCE, The Tale Review,
April; SWIFT'S PASTORAL (A Story that Has for Its
Background Saint Patrick's Purgatory), Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, January; THE DEER, The New
Republic, November 10, 1920; THE OLD TOY-BOOTH,
The Measure, May, 1921; THE SISTER'S LULLABY, The
Dial, October, 1920; THE WILD Ass, The Measure,
March, 1921.

Congling, Grace Hazard. DIARY WRITTEN ON PEONY
PETALS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, September,
1920; "ISN'T IT TIME?" The Measure, March, 1921;
MT. TOM SUNSETS, Box OF CORAL, HAREBELLS, SPRING
DAY, "WHAT ARE You THINKING?" Contemporary
Verse, October, 1920 ; KEEPSAKE, Contemporary Verse,
October, 1920; NOCTURNE, Everybody'* Magazine,
March; PRIMAVERAL, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
June; THE DIFFERENT DAY, The Nation, February 16;
THE FOUNTAIN, Contemporary Verse, November,
1920; THE HERMIT THRUSH, Contemporary Verse,
November, 1920; To HILDA OF HER ROSES, Contempor-
ary Verse, November, 1920.

Conkling, Hilda. HILL-ROADS, The Literary Review, N. Y.
Evening Post, February 19; NIGHT Is FORGOTTEN, The
Nation, February 16; "WHY Do You LOVE ME?" The
Literary Review, N. Y. Evening Post, February 19.

Cook, Alice Carter. SONNET, The GrinneU Review, June;
STORM, The Orinnell Review, June; THE WILLOW nr A
STORM, The Grinnell Review, June.

Cook, Harold. LYRICS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
January; NOCTURNE, Contemporary 'Verse, June, 1921,

Cooke, Le Baron. FANTASY, Tempo, June; LAUGHTEH AND
TEARS, Contemporary Verse, December, 1920.

218

Cooper, Belle. Somrar, To RTTDTABB KIPUNG, The Lyric
West, April.

Corbin, Alice. BIRD SONG AND WERE, The Dial, December,
1920; NEW MEXICO FOLK-SONGS (Translated and
Original) CHRIST Is BORN IN BETHLEHEM (A New
Mexico Nursery Rhyme), CHULA LA MANANA, COPLAS>
CUNDIYO, EL COYOTITO, MADRE MARIA, MANZANITA,
PETROLINO'S COMPLAINT, THE BALLAD OF MACARIO
ROMERO, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, August, 1920;
THE ROAD, The New Republic, March 2; TEEES AND
HORSES, The Dial, December, 1920; Two WATS OP
LOVE, The Tale Review, July.

Cowdin, Jasper Barnett ACHIEVEMENT, The Midland, A
Magazine of the Middle West, November, 1920.

Cowley, Malcolm. ABOUT SEVEN O'CLOCK, The Literary
Review, JJV. Y. Evening Post, January 22.

Cox, Eleanor Rogers. THE ASSUMPTION, The Catholic
World, August, 1920.

Crafton, Allen. CYCLE, Contemporary Verse, January, 1921;
OCTOBER, Everybody's Magazine, October, 1920; WHAT
DAWN BEAT AT THE HIDDEN DOOR OP HEAVEN? Con-
temporary Verse, January.

Crane, Hart. BLACK TAMBOURINE, The Double-Dealer, June.

Cranmer, Catharine. FAVOR, Contemporary Verse, August,
1920; UNMINDFUL, The Midland, A Magazine of the
Middle West, March.

Crawford, Nelson Antrim. AROUND You Music, Ccm-
temporary Verse, June, 1921.

Creese, James. No LYRE Is MINE, Contemporary Verse,
May, 1921.

Cros, Guy Charles. NOCTUPJTE, The Dial, September, 1920;
VHXONESQ.UE, The Dial, September, 1920.

Crotach, An. SAMHAIN, Contemporary Verse, November,
1920,

Crowell, Jane C. ST FRANCIS OP ASSISI, The Catholic World,
September, 1920.

Chimmlngs, E. E. PUELLA MEA, The Dial, January.

Cunningham, Nora B. WINTER, Contemporary Verse, Janu-
ary, 1921.

Curry, Arthur R. THE JEWELER, The Texas Review, Octo-
ber, 1920.

Cutting, Mary Stewart To A GREAT MAN, Everybody's
Magazine, June.

D., H. SIMAETHA, Contact; PHAEDRA REBUKES HIPPOLTA,
The Dial, November, 1920; HELIOS, The Dial, Novem-
ber, 1920; PHAEDRA REMEMBERS CRETE, The Dial,
November, 1920.

219

D., L, ROSAMUND, ON HER PORTRAIT IK A PRIVATE GALLERY,
Airs Well, June.

Dalton, Power. MY TORCH, New Numbers, March 28.

Damon, S. Foster. A THOUGHT AFTER TAPS, The North
American Review, October, 1920.

Daniels, Earl. BENEATH A FLOWERING TREE, Contemporary
Verse, April, 1921; FOR AMY LOWELL, Contemporary
Verse, April, 1921.

Dargan, Olive Tilford. FRANCESCA (1904-1917), Scribner*s
Magazine, August, 1920

Davidson, Gustav. I AM So GREAT A LOVER, New Numbers,
March 28; SOUVENIR, New Numbers, April 6.

Davies, Mary Carolyn. A LEGEND, New Numbers, March
28; STRANGE FLOWERS, Smith's Magazine, June; THE
WEAPON OF LAUGHTER, New Numbers, April 6; TWO-
MEDICINE LAKE, The Bookman, April; WE Two AND
MARRIAGE, The Century, September, 1920

Davies, W. H. STRONG MOMENTS, The New Republic,
November 10, 1920; WHERE SHE Is Now, The New
Republic, June 15.

Davis, Christine Kerr. THE OTTLD FIDDLER, Contemporary
Verse, February, 1921; THE STAY AT HOME, Scribner's
Magazine, January.

Davis, Julia Johnson. "I LOVE ALL' QUIET THINGS," The
Lyric, June, 1921; THE DRYAD, The Lyric, April, 1921;
TREASURE, The Lyric, May, 1921.

Davison, Edward. A GRAVE, The Outlook, July 6; THE
SWAN, The Literary Review, N. T. Evening Post;
THE SUNKEN CITY, The Outlook, November 10, 1920.

Dawson, Mitchell. DINING ALONE, The Double-Dealer, June.

De Acosta, Mercedes. To VOULETTI, UNREALITY, LUMBER-
MAN, SOILED HANDS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
January.

Deacon, Anne. THE TRAVELLER, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, November, 1920.

de la Mare, Walter. AD INFINITUM, The Measure, May,
1921; KARMA, The New Republic, May 25; SUMMER
DAWN, The New Republic, May 25; THE CORNER
STONE, The New Republic, May 25; THE DREAMER,
The Measure, May, 1921; THE SPECTRE, The New
Republic, May 25; THE TRUTH OP THINGS, The New
Republic, May 25; THE VOICE, The Literary Review,
N. T. Evening Post, January 15; WHO? The New
Republic, May 25.

D'Emo, Leon. THE MIDDLE AGES, The Century Magazine,
February.

Dennen, Grace Atherton. A SONG OP THREE HABBORS, The
Lyric West, April

220

Deutsch, Barbette, FESTIVAL, Contemporary Verse, June,
1921; FOURTH DIMENSION, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, July; FUGITIVE, The Century, June; KNOWL-
EDGE, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, July; OVERTONES,
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, July; PENREB'S TOMB,
The New Republic; REFLECTIONS, Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, July; WATS OF LOVE, Contemporary Verse,
June, 1921.

Dickinson, Emily. A ROSE, The Lyric, June, 1921.

Dismorr, Blanche. CHARLOTTE BRONTE (On Reading Her
Letters to M. Heger), Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
May.

Divine, Charles. A PLEASANT TRADE IN SPRING, Contempo-
rary Verse, April, 1921; PARIS: THE SEINE AT NIGHT,
Contemporary Verse,' February, 1921; A BEGGAR,
Smart Set, December, 1920; A NEGLECTED CHURCH IN
SPAIN, Leslies, March 19; TONIGHT You CAME TO ME,
Telling Tales, April; I'D MAKE A NECKLACE FOR YOUR
THROAT, Telling Tales, May.

Dobson, Austin. To A LYRIC POET, The Century, October,
1920.

Dodge, Louis. DISCOVERY, Scribner's Magazine, March.

Dodd, Lee Wilson. AGE AND YOUTH, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, April; RIDDLE, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
April.

Dolloff, Amy J. THE MESSENGER, The Granite Monthly,
January.

Dombey. UNITAS, Contemporary Verse, January, 1921.

Dorset, E. LOYALTY, Harper's Magazine, February.

Dorris, Frances. THE ORGAN, New Numbers, April.

Dos Passos, John. JARDIN DBS TUTLERBES, The Dial, June;
ON POETIC COMPOSITION, The Dial, June.

Doughty, Leonard. CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER
CAME (Three Sonnets), AWs Well, April.

Douglas, James Lee. THE FATHER or CREATION, The
Grinnell Review, January; THE GORILLA MAN, The
Cfrinnell Review, January; THE MOTHER OP THE
PLAINS, The Grinnell Review, March.

Douglas, Wm. THE DUKE, The Measure, May, 1921.

Dransfield, Jane. MOONLTGHT, Contemporary Verse, Novem-
ber, 1920 ; SEARCHLIGHT, Contemporary Verse, Novem-
ber, 1920.

Dresbach, Glenn Ward. DESERT SHADOW SONGS, The Meas-
ure, May, 1921; GOODNIGHT SONG, Contemporary
Verse, November, 1920; MEADOW BROOK, The Mid-
land, A Magazine of the Middle West, April; RIVEB
SONGS, The Midland, A Magazine of the Middle West,

July; SONGS IN THE DESERT, Contemporary Verse,
November, 1920 ; SONGS WHILE THE PEAIBIE WHISPERS,
The Midland, A Magazine of the Middle West, Octo-
ber, 1920 ; THE COLONEL'S LADY, Contemporary Verse,
December, 1920; THE CROW'S NEST, Everybody's
Magazine, November, 1920; To ONE BELOVED, Poetry,
A Magazine of Verse, October, 1920.

Drinkwater, John. A LESSON TO MY GHOST, The North
American Review, November, 1920; ABSENCE, The
Yale Review, April; AGAINST TREASON, The Nation,
December 29, 1920; FAIKFOBD NIGHTINGALES, Scrib-
ner's Magazine, March; HEREAFTER, The Yale Review,
April; PORTIA'S HOTTSEIKEEPING, The Dial, January;
THE DYING PHILOSOPHEB TO His FIDDLER, The Century
Magazine, January; THE TOLL-GATE HOUSE, Scribner's
Magazine, May; UNION, Poetry , A Magazine of Verse,
December, 1920; VOCATION, Scribner's Magazine,
March.

Driscoll, Louise. FRUIT TREES, Tempo, June; IMMORTALITY,
Contemporary Verse, November, 1920; LATE AUTUMN,
Contemporary Verse, November, 1920; MOON GIFT,
Tempo, June; THE DESERT HAS ONE GOD, The Sonnet,
December, 1920; THE SPINET, Contemporary Verse,
November, 1920; THREE POEMS: LUCK, Contemporary
Verse, June.

E., S. M. THE GIFT OP SHAMROCKS, The Catholic World,
March.

Earle, Betty. SPIRIT, Tempo } June.

Eberle, Irmengrade. CONCEPTION Contemporary Verse,
February, 1921.

Eddy, Lucy. RIDER OF SUN FIRE, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, August, 1920

Eddy, Ruth Bassett. IN THE COUNTRY, The Granite Month-
ly, July; UNSATISFIED, The Granite Monthly, Febru-
ary; THE DANCE, Overland Monthly; OUT OP COL-
LEGE, Town Topics; HER Bow, Judge; ON THE FENCE,
Judge; WOOD GLIMPSES, Kansas City Star; THE
RIVER ROAD, Springfield Republican; COMME IL FAUT,
Springfield Republican; You ARE THE SPRING, New
York Sun; IMPRESSIONS, Browning's Magazine.

Eden, Helen Parry. THE STAB: A CAROL FOR TWELFTH
NIGHT, The Literary Review, N. T. Evening Post,
January 8.

Edholm, Charlton L. Cmr WINDOWS, Everybody's Maga-
zine. November, 1920.

Eldridge, Paul. DON JUAN (The Butterfly's Tragedy), New
Numbers, March 28; THE SCARECROW, New Numbers,

March 28; WISDOM, The Midland, A Magazine of the
Middle West, October, 1920; THE MOUNTAINS, The
Midland, A Magazine of the Middle West. October,
1920.

England, George Allan. "No VALUE," Contemporary Verse,
March, 1921.

English, Thomas Hopkins. THE WESTERN WINDOW IN
PROCTOR HALL OP THE GRADUATE COLLEGE IN PRINCE-
TON, Scribner's Magazine, August, 1920.

Eskew, Garnett Laidlaw. SHIPS IN HAMPTON ROADS, IV. Y.
Evening Post, April 8; THE DAUGHTER OF THE STARS,
N. Y. Evening Post, April 12.

Esler, Elizabeth Barnett THE HOLY HOUSE, The Catholic
World, September, 1920.

Fagin, N. Bryllion. PHILOSOPHERS ALL, The Literary Re-
view, The N. Y. Evening Post, March 12.

Fahnestock, Elizabeth Bertron. LULLABY, The Outlook,
April 6.

Parns worth, Dorothy McPherson. REBELLION, Scribner's
Magazine, May.

Farrar, John EGO, Contemporary Verse, May, 1921.

Felshin, Jo. LONELY, The Bookman, March.

Fennell, Charles. POE, Tempo, June.

Fenton, Carroll Lane. "E BE THAN,'* Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, April.

Ferril, Thomas Hornsby. SPACE AFTER SUPPER, Con-
temporary Verse, August, 1920; THE UNCUT PAGE,
Contemporary Verse, August, 1920.

Ficke, Arthur Davison. DON QUIXOTE, The North American
Review, December, 1920; HOLY WHIT, Poetry t A
Magazine of Verse, May; LEAI^MOVEMENT, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, April; OLD WIVES' TALES, Poetry,
A Magazine of Verse, May; PERSPECTIVE OP CO-ORDINA-
TION, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, April; THE BOOK
OP Lu T'ANG CHU, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, May;
THE MIDDLE YEARS, The North American Review,
May; WORLD BEYOND WORLD,, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, April.

Field, Ben. SALTON SEA, The Lyric West, April.

Finley, John. THE FIRST KNIGHT OF THE HOLY CROSS,
Scribner's Magazine, December, 1920; THE WHITE
ACRES IN FRANCE, N. Y. Times Book Review, May 29.

Fisher, Stokely S. THIS SPIRIT OF THE NORTH, Contempo-
rary Verse, February, 1921.

Fisher, Mahlon Leonard. BLINDED, The Sonnet, December,
1920; CHIEF IN MY HEAJBLT, The Sonnet, March- April;

THE GARDEN-SPIDER'S WEB, The Nation, July 20; THE
QUESTIONERS, The Sonnet, December, 1920.

Planner, Hildegarde. ALLEGIANCE, The Bookman, March;
COMMUNION, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, Febru-
ary; PEELUDE, The Measure, July, 1921.

Fletcher, John Gould. THE MOON'S ORCHESTRA, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, October, 1920; THE SILENCE,
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, October, 1920; THE
STEVEDORES, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, October,
1920; THE WANDERER, The New Republic, September
22, 1920.

Fletcher, Louisa. MANDARIN RED, Harper's Magazine, May.

Flexner, Hortense. FOREBODING, The North American Re-
view, October, 1920; THE HUNT, The Measure, April,
1921 ; PURCHASE (Certain Letters Written by Lorenzo
de Medici Are Sold at Auction), Harper's Magazine,
November, 1920.

Foster, George A. MY BABY, The Granite Monthly, June.

Foster, K. K. RESURRECTION, The Midland, A Magazine of
the Middle West, March.

Frank, Florence Kiper. ELF-CHELD, Poetry, A Magazine of
Terse, November, 1920; SLEEP THE MOTHER, Poetry f
A Magazine of Verse, November, 1920.

Frazee-Bower, Helen. COLER-MOOD, Everybody's Magazine,
August, 1920; COME HITHER, WIND! Everybody's
]Iagazine> March.

Freeman, Joseph. AFFIRMATIONS, New Numbers, March 28 ;
FRIENDLINESS, New Numbers, April 6; I SHALL LOVE
You, The Liberator; ISOLATION, New Numbers, April
16; JEALOUSIES, New Numbers, April 6; Nor ONLY
ROSES, The Nation, July 20; RENUNCIATION, New
Numbers, April 6; TREASON, New Numbers, April 6;
WHITE STARS* BRIGHT STARS, New Numbers, April 6.

Frost, Robert. A BROOK IN THE CITY, The New Republic,
March 9; A HILLSIDE THAW, The New Republic,
April 6, 1921 ; BLUE-BUTTEILFLY DAY, The New Repub-
lic, March 6; THE AIM WAS SONG, The Measure,
March, 1921; THE CENSUS TAKER, The New Repub-
lic, April 6, 1921; THE ONSET, The Yale Review,
January; THE PAUPER WITCH OF GRAFTON, The
Nation, April 13; SNOW DUST, The Yale Review,
January; A STAR IN A STONE-BOAT, The Yale Review,
January; MISGIVING, The Yale Review, January;
THE NEED OF BEING VERSED IN COUNTRY THINGS,
Harper' 9 Magazine, December, 1920; WILD GRAPES,
Harper's Magazine, December, 1920; FIRE AND ICE,

Harper's Magazine, December, 1920; THE VAIXEY'S
SINGING DAY, Harper's Magazine, December, 1920.

Fujita, Jun. A LEAF, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, June;
DECEMBER MOON, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, June;
ECHO, Poetty, A Magazine of Verse, June; MAY
MOON, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, June; NOVEMBER,
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, June; SPRING, Poetry,
A Magazine of Verse, June; STORM, Poetry, A Maga-
zine of Verse, June; To ELIZABETH, Poetry, A Maga-
zine of Verse, June.

Funk, Marian Nevin. SHE GAVE ME WATER, Contemporary
Verse, September, 1920.

Galahad, Joseph Andrew. THE PISTES OP LEBANON, The
North American Review, March, 1921; VANGUARD,
Contemporary Verse, March, 1921.

Gammans* Harold W. MANGUA OF HOKUSAI LIGHT BRIDGES,
Contemporary Verse, August, 1920.

Garnett, Louise Ayres. EARTH-SONG, The Outlook, Decem-
ber 22, 1920; NORAH EN BE ARK, The Outlook, Decem-
ber 15, 1920; SILHOUETTE, Contemporary Verse,
September, 1920; SUMMER Music, Contemporary
Verse, September, 1920; THE CAPTIVE, Contemporary
Verse, September, 1920; WHITE SHADOWS, Contempo-
rary Verse, September, 1920.

Garrison, Theodosia. NOVEMBER, Everybody's Magazine,
November, 1920; THE GRANDCHILD, Everybody's
Magazine, November, 1920.

Gaw, Ethelean Tyson. A BARNEGAT LOVE-SONG, Scribner's
Magazine, August, 1920.

Geddes, Virgil. IN MEMORIAM, Tempo, June; RODIN'S
THINKER, Tempo, June; To F. C., Tempo, June.

George, Legare. BREAKERS, The Dial, October, 1920.

Gessler, Clifford Franklin. BLUE DRUMS, New Numbers,
March 28; CHICAGO, The Grinnell Review, February;
EXORCISM, The Midland, A Magazine of the Middle
West, April; EYES, New Numbers, March 28; INTER-
LUDE, The Midland, A Magazine of the Middle West,
January; LOOP MORNING, The Grinnell Review,
December, 1920; NEVERTHELESS, Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, June; PRAYER, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, June; YOUR HORSES, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, June; SPRING LONGINGS, The Grinnell Review,
August, 1920; SHOLTO STREET, The Grinnell Review,
December, 1920; VAN BUREN STREET CAR, The
Grinnell Review, December, 1920; Two SONNETS OP
MEMORIES, The Grinnell Review, January.

Giffin, Clare. A SONG AT LEAVE-TAKING, Scribner's Magazine,
January.

225

Gilford, Fannie Stearns. APOLOGY, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, March; DEATH IN THE SUN, Poetry, A Maga-
zine of Verse, March; THE PUPIL TO His MASTER, The
Literary Review, N. Y. Evening Post, March 12, 1921.

Gilbert, Morris. THE BOULGHAB. DAGH, Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, June.

Gilchrist, Marie Emilie. AFTER Music, The Midland, A
Magazine of the Middle West, September, 1920.

Gile, Blanche F. LITTLE THINGS, To-Day's Housewife, May.

Giltinan, Caroline. INTERPRETED, The Boston Transcript;
MAGDAI^N, The Catholic World, March; RECEPTION-,
Contemporary Verse, September, 1920; THE CALL, The
Catholic World, May; THE VISITOR, The Catholic
World, August, 1920; TRIUMPH, Contemporary Verse,
September, 1920.

Ginsburg, Louis. NOCTURNE, Contemporary Verse, August,
1920.

Glasgow, Julia. ESTHER, The American Hebrew, March 18.

Glaenzer, Richard Butler. THE REAL PACHYDERM, The Mid-
land, A Magazine of the Middle West, November,
1920; TREES, The Red Cross Magazine, October, 1920.

Going, Charles Buxton. SPRING-SONG OP A SHUT-!N, Every-
body's Magazine, April; THE FIGUREHEAD, Every-
body's Magazine, October, 1920.

Golding, Louis. NUMBERS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
July.

Goodman, Blanche. FROM: THE JOURNAL OF CHO-SHI-CHUN,
Contemporary Verse, February, 1921.

Gordon-Roby, Maude. A SONG OF SPRING, The Granite
Monthly, May; ETERNITY HATH No AGE, The Granite
Monthly, March.

Gordon, Elizabeth Hope. PIPES OF PAST, The Granite
Monthly, June.

Gore, Russell. WHERE Music STEALS UPON You, The
Detroit Sunday News, June 5.

Gould, Wallace. DIVERSION, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
November, 1920; POSTLUDE, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, November, 1920; THE LAST TABLEAU, Poetry,
A Magazine of Verse, November, 1920; THE PILGRIM-
AGE, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, November, 1920.

Guiterman, Arthur. SEX, The Nation, May 4.

Gummere, Richard Mott YOUTH RESILIENT, Contempo-
rary Verse, February, 1921.

Guyol, Louise Patterson. STAR-FLOWERS, The Granite
Monthly, February.

Gwathmey, Margaw* Cabell. LIVING, The Lyric, July, 1921;
MY HEART AND I, The Lyric, April, 1921; OMISSION,
The Lyric, June, 1921.

226

Gray, Agnes Kendrick. A BALLAD OF SHAWN THE RHYMER,
Contemporary Verse, June; AFTER WHISTLES, The
Measure, June, 1921.

Greenhood, David. THANKS FOE A SEASON-, Poetry, A Maga-
zine of Verse, December, 1920; THE WORKER, Poetry,
A Magazine of Verse, December, 1920.

Griffith, William ON USING THE SUN AND MOON, All's
Well, February; ORIGINS, The Double-Dealer, June.

Grudsky, Leo. FAMILY PORTRAIT, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, November, 1920; IN THE MIRROR, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, November, 1920; MELODRAMA,
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, November, 1920.

Hagedorn, Hermann. THE MAN WHO SANG, The Outlook,
April 12, 1921.

Hall, Amanda Benjamin. IDYL, Contemporary Verse, Octo-
ber, 1920; NOCTURNE, Contemporary Verse, Octo-
ber, 1920; ROMANCE, Contemporary Verse, December,
1920; THE CANARY, Contemporary Verse, October,
1920; To A WAYFARER, Contemporary Verse, July,
1921; To ONE WHO PASSED (H. I. L.), Contemporary
Verse, October, 1920.

Hall, Carolyn. FRITZ KREISLEH, The Measure, June, 1921;
PRESAGE, The Midland, A Magazine of the Middle
West, October, 1920; NEW ROSES, The Bookman, June;
RAIN-SOUNDS, New York Evening Post, May 14.

Hall, Hazel. A BOY WENT BY, The Century, October, 1920;
COWARDICE, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, May; CROSS
STITCH, New Numbers, April 6; FILET CROCHET, New
Numbers, March 28; FLASH, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, May; HEAVY THREADS, New Numbers, March
28; INSTRUCTION, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, May;
LATE SEWING, New Numbers, March 28; LONELINESS,
Contemporary Verse, January; RIPPING, New Num-
bers, April 6; RUNNING STITCHES", New Numbers,
April 6; SANDS, The Measure, March, 1921; STAIR-
WAYS, Contemporary Verse, January; SUNLIGHT
THROUGH A WINDOW, Contemporary Verse, January;
THE GRAY VEIL, Contemporary Verse, January;
THREE POEMS, Contemporary Verse, July; THREE
SONGS FOR SEWING, Poetry, A Magazme of Verse,
May; To A DOOR, Contemporary Verse, January;
YOUR CAMISOLE, New Numbers, April 6; YOUTH, The
Dial, September, 1920.

227

Hallam, Robert. GUIDES, The Granite Monthly, June.

Hardin, Charlotte. RAGPICKER, The Detroit Sunday News,
February 20; THE DOUBLE TAKING, The Detroit
Sunday News, Jiily 24; THE RUSTLING FOREST, The
Detroit Sunday News, February 27.

Hartley, Marsden. CANTICLE FOR OCTOBER, Contact; THE
CRUCIFIXING OP NOEL, The Dial, April

Harvey, Shirley. CAMILLA SINGS, The Granite "Monthly,
March.

Haste, Gwendolen. NAMES, The Midland, A. Magazine of
the Middle West, January.

Hatton, Annie S. NEW HAMPSHIRE, The Granite Monthly,
July.

Head, Jerome. "THAT I Do LOVE You," The Measure, April,
1921.

Heller, Samuel A ROBIN, The Lyric, April, 1921.

Helton, Roy. MAT JONES TAKES THE Ant (The Nation's
Prize Poem), The Nation, February 9.

Henderson, Daniel. A TEST FOR POETS, Contemporary Verse,
August, 1920; A TRAINMAN, Contemporary Verse,
August, 1920; DALLIANCE, Contemporary Verse, De-
cember, 1920; SONGS FROM GENESIS: I. JACOB WRES-
TLES WITH AN ANGEL, II. JUBAL, Contemporary
Verse, July; NIGHT PICTURE, The Bookman, Febru-
ary; PILGRIM: MOTHERS, The Outlook, September 15,
1920; REPENTANCE, The Bookman, March; THE
SCULPTOR (A Chaplain Speaks), Contemporary Verse,
December, 1920.

Henderson, Rose. NESTS, Contemporary Verse, June, 1921 ;
TEWA CORN DANCE, The Midland, A Magazine of the
Middle West, December, 1920; THE DREAM, Con-
temporary Verse, June, 1921; THE Smr GOD, Every-
body's Magazine, June.

Henry, Thomas Millard. ODE TO PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR,
The Negro World, January 1.

Hepburn, E. MacAlister. ONE Kiss, New Numbers, March
28.

Hersey, Marie Louise. THE WEAKER SEX, The Boston
Transcript, May 7; To ROBINSON CRUSOE, Smith's
Magazine, June.

Heyward, Du Bose. GAMESTERS ATT,, Contemporary Verse,
April.

Hzckey, Emily. IMMACULATE, ORA PRO NOBIS, The Catholic
World, January.

Hill, Frank Ernest. BORASAN, The Measure, June, 1921;
UPPER AIR, The New Republic, November 10, 1920;

228

THE ABIDING MOMENT, The Measure, March, 1921;
THE EARTH WILL STAY THE SAME, The Nation, June
29.

Hillman, Gordon Malherbe. FOG, The Christian Science
Monitor, May 21; MEMPHIS, Contemporary Verse,
April, 1921; MONTREAL, Motion Picture Classic, May;
SAN FRANCISCO, Contemporary Verse, April, 1921 ; TEA
SHIPS, Adventure, September 3, 1920; THE FIRST
COMMAND, The Open Road, February; THE FISH
PATROL, The Christian Science Monitor, March 26;
SEA TURN, The Christian Science Monitor, June 7;
THE SHIP TURNS HOME, Adventure, April 3; THE
TRAMP, The Open Road, October, 1920; THE WILD
GEESE, FROM THE CHINESE OP CHUN Yu SENG, Con-
temporary Verse, April, 1921; TYPHOON, Adventure,
March 3; YELLOWHEAD PASS, The Christian Science
Monitor, January 13,

Hillyer, Robert. A LETTER, Harper's Magazine, June; DIS-
ILLUSION, The Measure, April, 1921; FOG, The Meas-
ure, April, 1921; FLOWER-MARKET, COPENHAGEN, The
Outlook, February 22; INTERLUDE, Contemporary
Verse, February, 1921.

Hoffman, C. Gouverneur. CLOUDS, Scribner'f Magazine,
June.

Holbrook, "Weare. IN WHICH A POET SLIPS THE BLUE
ENVELOPE TO His LADY LOVE, The Writer's Monthly,
April; MINOR POETS, Contemporary Verse, August,
1920.

Holley, Horace. THE FOOL, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
February.

Hollis, Barbara. DESTINY, The Granite Monthly, July;
HOME BUILDERS, The Granite Monthly, June.

Holmes, Charles N^vers. AFTER THE SNOW STORM, The
Granite Monthly, February.

Horton, Dabney. THE WINGED SOUL, Scribner's Magazine,
October, 1920.

Hough, Mary E. APRIL, The Granite Monthly, April; DAY-
TIME, The Granite Monthly, June.

Howe, M. A. De Wolfe. THE Music GARDEN, Scribner's
Magazine, October, 1920

Hoyt, Helen Underwood. MOUNTAIN-MORNING, Contem-
porary Verse, December, 1920; To "A SHROPSHIRE
LAD," The Measure, June, 1921.

Hoyt, Morton. SEX LEBRIS, The Literary Review, N. 7.
Evening Post, March 12.

Huckfield, Leyland. CERAMICS, Contemporary Versa, Febru-
ary, 1921; LAST LOAD HOME, The Midland, A Maga-
zine of the Middle West, March; OIL OP MAN (English

Folk-Lore), The Midland, A Magazine of the Middle
West, March; RIDING WEST, The Midland, A Magazine
of the Middle West, January; SPELL OF THE RIVER,
The Midland, A Magazine of the Middle West, Janu-
ary; THE LAND OP PLUMS, Contemporary Verse,
April; To A PARAKEET, The Midland, A Magazine of
the Middle West, February.

Hudson, Hoyt H. IN THE CITY, The Grinnell Review, June.

Hueffer, Ford Madox. A HOUSE, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, March.

Hughes, Richard. THE SINGING FOBJDES (To M. B.), The
Dial, June.

Hume, Isabel. THE CURIOUS EYES, The North, American
Review, February.

Huntington, Julia Weld. OFF THE HIGHWAY, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, May.

Hutchinson, Hazel C. ADORATION, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, October, 1920.

Hussey, Jennie E. THE HARBINGER OF SPRING, The Granite
Monthly, April.

Hyatt, Jr., Jack. SIDEWALK SPECTRES, Tempo, June.

L M. LINES ON WATT'S "HOPE" IN THE TATE GALLERY*
The Catholic World, January.

Jackson, Winifred Virginia. A LAP O' SIXTY-ONE, Sunday
Post Magazine, February 27; BABY BLUEBIRD, The
Brownies* Book, July; BOBBY'S WISHES, Brownies'
Book, December, 1920; BROWN LEAVES, The Crisis,
July, 1920; DORA OF AURORA, The Boston Post, Decem-
ber 12, 1920; DRIFTWOOD AND FIRE, The National
Magazine, February; EYES, The Conservative, June;
FINALITY, The Conservative, June; IX>NELINESS, The
Crisis, February; THE BONNET, The National Maga-
zine, March; THE COBBLER IN THE MOON, The Con-
servative, June; THE HOWL-WIND, The Brownie's
Book, December, 1920; THE LAST HOUR, Sunday
Post Magazine; THE PURCHASE, The Conservative,
June; THE TRICKY TUNE, The Conservative, June;
VALUES, The Crisis, November, 1920; WAITING FOR
BETTY, Sunday Post Magazine, March 20, 1921;
WHEN THE WOODS CALL, Sunday Post Magazine, De-
cember 12, 1920; A DEAFNESS, The Conservative,
June; HOOFIN' IT, The Conservative, June.

James, Luther. THE VIOLIN, Contemporary Verse, August,

Janson, Ellen. CHINESE NIGHT SONG, The Measure, April,
1921; JAPANESE NIGHT SONG, The Measure, April,
1921 ; "SHADOWY UNDER MY WINDOW," The Measure,
April, 1921.

280

Jenkins, Oliver. AH OLD COLONIAL HOTTSE, The Pagan
Magazine, AprU; DREAM-PICTUBES, The Motion Pic-
ture Magazine, April; GIRL ETCHINGS, The Pagan
Magazine, April; LOVE AUTUMNAL, Tempo, June;
POPPY-TIME IN THE ARCTIC, The Open Road, Septem-
ber, 1920; REGBET, The Boston Transcript, November
13, 1920.

Jienrrings, Leslie Nelson. CONCLUSION, The Sonnet, Septem-
ber-October, 1920; EIDOLON, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, March; SALUTE! W. M. R., All's Well, June.

Jesson, Frederick Shea. A CERTAIN GIRL, Poetry , A Maga-
zine of Verse, September, 1920; EARTH-SONG, Poetry,
A Magazine of Verse, September, 1920; THE ARCHEB,
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, September, 1920.

Johnson, James Weldon. THE CBEATION (A Negro Ser-
mon), The Freeman, December 1, 1920.

Johnson, Josephine. BLACK, BLACK THE NIGHT, The Lyric,
July, 1921; HER GABDEN, The Lyric, June, 1921; LIFE,
The Lyric, May, 1921.

Johnston, William. FANTASY, The Midland, A Magazine of
the Middle West, December, 1920.

Johnstone, Julian E. JEHOVAH! The Catholic World,
December, 1920.

Jones, Howard Mumford. ARTEMIS, The Freeman, February
9; IMPERFECT TRIBUTE, Contemporary Verse, Septem-
ber, 1920; METAPHYSICS, Contemporary Verse, Sep-
tember, 1920; ROMANCE, The Freeman, April 6;
SOLITARY, All's Well, May.

Jones, Ruth Lambert. MEASURE, Everybody's Magazine,
August, 1920.

Jones, Jr., Thomas S. JEBUSALEM, The Boston Transcript,
March 26; NIGHT IN THE GABDEN, The Boston Tran-
script, April 2; THE VIGIL: LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY,
The Boston Transcript, March 12.

Josephson, Matthew. THE LAST LADY, Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, October, 1920.

Kemp, Harry. THE FIDDLER, The Century, September, 1920.

Kemper, S. H. THE CONVALESCENT, Harper's Magazine,
September, 1920.

Kenyon, Bernice Lesbia. A SONG IN SEPTEMBER, The Granite
Monthly f January; ABT, Mtmsey's Magazine, March;
AUTUMN, The Sonnet, September-October, 1920;
AWAKENING, The Christian Science Monitor 3 May 4$
GREEN TWILIGHT, The Christian Science Monitor,
March 31; IN A CONSERVATORY, The New Republic,
March 2; NEW RAIMENT, Contemporary Verse, May
21; NIGHT SAILING, The Outlook, July 20; SNOW-
TBAEL, The Granite Monthly, January,

231

Kenyon, Theda. A GARGOYLE IN FLANDERS, The North
American Review, September, 1920.

Kilmer, Aline. CHARMIAN'S SONG, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, May; FOE ALL LADIES OF SHALLOTT, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, May; THE GIFT, The Outlook,
June 22; THE HEART KNOWETH ITS OWN BITTERNESS,
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, May ; THE STIRRUP CUP,
The Lyric, July; To SAPPHO, ABOUT HER APPLE, The
Lyric, June; TRIBUTE, Scribner's Magazine, March

King, Jr., James Gore. THE HARVARD 1920 GLASS POEM, The
Outlook, August 4, 1920.

Kling, Joseph. QUASI ADAGIO, Tempo, June.

Kreymborg, Alfred. BOOMERANG, The Nation, February 16;
LITTLE EGO, The Measure, March, 1921; MONOCLES,
The Dial, June; PEOPLE READ BOOKS, The Bookman,
February; TURTLES, The Dial, June.

Kuder, Blanche Bane. GOD LOVED A GARDEN, The Outlook,
August 11, 1920.

L., D. K. VACHEL LINDSAY, The Detroit Sunday News,
January 28.

Ladd, Virginia B. A FEBRUARY AFTERNOON-, The Granite
Monthly, February.

Lahey, C. S. C., Thomas A. THE HARP THAT ONCE THRTT
TARA'S HALLS, The Catholic World, February.

Laird, William. A LIST OF LYRICS, Contemporary Verse,
December, 1920; NEW LOVE, Contemporary Verse,
December, 1920; OH, WHEN I DIE, Contemporary
Verse, August 20.

Lampson, Frederick Locker. SOME UNPUBLISHED SKETCHES
AND POEMS, Scribner's Magazine, April.

Laramore, Vivian Yeiser. JUNE JOY, Contemporary Verse,
June, 1920; LITTLE LEAVES, Contemporary Verse,
March, 1921.

Larsson, R. Ellsworth, COMMUNION, Tempo, June.

Lawless, Margaret H. THE MIGHTY RULER, St. Anthony's
Messenger, October, 1920; THE OTHER NINE, St.
Anthony's Messenger, November, 1920; OUB DEAD,
0. L. of C. Index, November, 1920; LATB ROSES, Ro-
sary Magazine, November, 1920; SONG OF THE FROST,
St. Anthony's Messenger, January; FAITH'S OFFER-
ING, The Magnificat, June.

Lawrence, D. H. POMEGRANITE, The Dial, March, 1921 ; THE
APOSTOLIC BEASTS, The Dial, April; THE MOSQUITO,
The Bookman, July.

Leamy, Edmund. DAISY FIELDS, Everybody's Magazine,
June; THE DREAM DESTROYED, Everybody's Magazine,
April

232

Lear, Althine Scholess. OPPORTUNITY, The Granite Monthly,
June.

Le Cron, Helen Cowles. THINGS, Contemporary Verse.
August, 1920.

Lee, Harry. MARTYRDOM. The Catholic World, November,
1920; THE LETTER-CARRIER, The Outlook, June 1; THE
SHRINE, The Catholic World, May; THE SOURCE, The
Catholic World, August, 1920; Wnn>s FROM HEAVEN,
The Outlook, March 16.

Le GaJlienne, Hesper. MATINAL, Harper's Magazine,
August, 1920.

Le Gallienne, Richard. A LOVER'S WARNING, Harper's
Magazine, June; ANIMA MUNDI, Harper's Magazine*
March; LOVE'S ARITHMETIC, Harper's Magazine,
February.

Leitch, Mary Sinton, REMEMBRANCE, The Lyric, April, 1921 ;
WAITING, The Lyric, July, 1921; THE FORGOTTEN
GRAVE, The Lyric, June, 1921.

Lemont, Jessie. NOTRE DAME CHAPELLE, The Catholic
World, June; SPORT OF THE GODS, The Measure, July,
1921.

LeNoir, Phil. DOWN ON THE OL J BAR-G, Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, August, 1920; OL' DYNAMITE, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, August, 1920; THE PUNCHER POET,
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, August, 1920.

Leonard, Clair T. FINIS, The Granite Monthly, January;
MEMORIES, The Granite Monthly, March.

Leonard, O. H. THE THUNDER STORM, Contemporary Verse,
August, 1920.

Leonard, William Ellery. Ex PONTO, Tempo, June; THE
LTNCHING BEE, The Nation, December 29, 1920.

Letts, W. M. THE CHILDREN'S GHOSTS, The Yale Review,
October, 1920.

Levinson, Ronald, and Malcolm Cowley. WELLS' SPRINGS OP
HISTORY: THE MAKING OP OUR WORLD; THE BEGIN-
NINGS OF LIFE; THE ANCIENT EAST; HELLENIC CUL-
TURE; THE GARRULOUS AGE; THE MORAL VALUE OF
ROME; SIDELIGHTS ON THE DARK AGES; THE RENAIS-
SANCE; FIRST GLIMPSES or A WELLSIAN CIVILIZATION;
BULLETINS ON THE PERIOD FROM LUTHER TO THE
FRENCH REVOLUTION; ENGLAND IN THE NINETEENTH
CENTURY; IRELAND TBOM 500 B. C. TO THE PRESENT
DAY; A CELEBRATION OF MODERN TIMES; MODERN
MAN FORGETS HIMSELF; THE CATASTROPHE or 1914>; A
SONG OF THE WORLD THAT Is To BE; EPILOGUE, The
Literary Review, The N. 7. Evening Post, March 19.

Lewis, Charlton M. PYGMALION, The Tale Review, July.

23S

Lockwood, Harriette L ARGUING WITH PEGASUS, The
Writer's Monthly, March.

Long, HanieL PTTTSBURG: A CLEAE DAT, Tempo, June;
PROUD CITIES, Tempo, June; THE MASKER, Q on-
temporary Verse, January, 1921; THE NEW MOCK,
Tempo, June.

Longley, Snow. MID-ATLANTIC, The Lyric West, April; IN
SPRING, The Lyric West, ApriL

Loucks, Allan P. IN THE CITY OF THE SILVER LOTUS, The
Detroit 8unday News, September 19, 1920.

Low, Benjamin R. C. AFTER A TRIP FROM ALBANY BY NIGHT
BOAT, Scribner's Magazine, August, 1920; THE Too
HIGH, Harper's Magazine, June.

Lowell, Amy. A DIMENSION", The Bookman, April; AFTER-
GLOW, The Bookman, April; BASKET DANCE, The Dial,
September, 1920; MANY SWANS, SUN MYTH OF THE
NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS, The North American Re-
view, August, 1920; MORNING SONG, WITH DRUMS, The
New Republic, October 6, 1920; PRAYER FOR LIGHT-
NING, The Dial, September, 1920; PRAYER FOR A PRO-
FUSION OF SUNFLOWERS, The Dial, September, 1920;
THE DAY THAT WAS THAT DAY, Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, November, 1920; TWENTT-FOUB HOKXU ON
A MODERN THEME, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
June; WOMEN'S HARVEST SONG, The Dial, September,
1920; WOMEN'S SONG OF THE CORN, The Dial, Sep-
tember, 1920.

Lowrey, Perrin Holmes. AUTUMN TWILIGHT, Contemporary
Verse, November, 1920; GOLDEN ROD, Contemporary
Verse, November, 1920.

Loy, Mina. MEXICAN DESERT, The Dial, June.
Lummis, Charles F. ERNESTINE SCHUM A NN-HEINK, The
Lyric West, April.

MacDonald, Jessie. A PRAYER, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, March.

MacDougall, Allan Ross. BOUNCING BELINDA, The Literary
Review, N. T. Evening Post, January 22.

Jtfadntyre, Carlyle Ferren. THE INFORMING SPIRIT, The
Nation, April 27.

MacMahan, Anne D. A WHAT Nor, The Writer's Monthly,
February.

McAImon, Robert. FORM OBSTRUCTIONIST: SCULPTOR, Poet-
ry, A Magazine of Verse, December, 1920; SURF OF
THE DEAD SEA, Contact; TODAY'S Music, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, December, 1920; WHITE MALES,
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, December, 1920.

234

McCarthy, John Russell. A MAN WALKING, Contemporary
Verse, August, 1920; MARCH, Contemporary Verse,
March, 1921.

McClellan, Walter. THE EEL-SPEAREB, Contemporary Verse,
August, 1920; TOLSTI'S GOOD-BYE, Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, October, 1920.

McClure, John. LE BOUNE CHANSON, The Century, August,
1920; WITH ALL THEIR VESSELS, The Double-Dealer,
June.

McCluskey, Katherine Wisner. A FOLLOWER, Contemporary
Verse, July; A SECRET, Contemporary Verse, July;
"FowL THAT MAT FLY ABOVE THE EARTH," Contem-
porary Verse, July, 1921; HOME-COMING, Contempo-
rary Verse, December, 1920; THE BIRD AND THE
BROOK, Contemporary Verse, December, 1920.

McCormick, Virginia. A BAUDELAIRE, The Lyric, July, 1921 ;
FOR BEAUTY DOES NOT DIE, The Lyric, June, 1921;
DAYS OP HAPPINESS, The Lyric, May, 1921; MEADOWS
AT NIGHT, The Lyric, May, 1921; PERFECTION, The
Lyric, April, 1921.

McCreary, Frederick R. OLD AGE, Contemporary Verse,
August, 1920; THE FOREMAN, Contemporary Verse,
August, 1920.

McGaffey, Ernest BALLADE or MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS, The
Lyric West, April; MOLLY BY THE SHORE, The Lyric
West, April.

McKenny, Margaret. ARCTIC MEMORY, Contemporary Verse,
February, 1921; ARCTIC SUMMER, Contemporary
Verse, June, 1921; ICE, Contemporary Verse, Febru-
ary, 1921.

McMullen, Mary F. A QUINCE TREE IN BLOOM, The Lyric,
May, 1921.

McVickar, Dorothy. HEAPHY HERSELF, Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, May.

Mann, Stella Lucia. LAUDATIONS TO ANDY, Contemporary
Verse, August, 1920.

March, J. M. AUTUMN PROPHECY, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, September, 1920.

Markham, Edwin. A SONG TO A TREE, The Bookman, July.

Markham, Lucia Clark. "BEAUTY FOR ASHES," Contempo-
rary Verse, May, 1921 ; SONGS FOR A, LITTLE GIRL IN
HER GARDEN: I. MORNING SONG; II. THE HONEY-
SUCKLE HEDGE, Contemporary Verse, May, 1921.

Marks, Jeannette. AGAIN? The North American Review,
April; DRAGON, The Bookman, May; DUST AND
DREAMS, The North American Review, February.

Marquis, Neeta. MARCH SONG, The Lyric West, April; To
THE SOUTH, The Lyric West, April

235

Masters, Edgar Lee. KEATS TO FANNY BRAWNE, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, January.

Matson, Mabel Cornelia, CHRISTMAS WREATHS, The Granite
Monthly, December, 1920; THERE Is A HOUSE UPON A
HILL, The Granite Monthly, February.

Mathers, E. Powys (trans.). FIVE AFGHAN LOVE SONGS,
The Dial, October, 1920.

Matthews, Emily W. MY LITTLE LOVE, The Granite
Monthly, January; NATURE, The Granite Monthly,
April.

Mavity, Nancy Barr. A FRAGMENT FROM SAPPHO, Con-
temporary Verse, May; IN THE GARDEN, Contempo-
rary Verse, May; "!N WHOSE SERVICE Is PERFECT
FREEDOM," Contemporary Verse, May; LOST LAN-
GUAGE, Contemporary Verse, May; THE HOME-MAKER,
The Century, April.

Maynard, Theodore. INSCRIPTION TO MT MOTHER, Harper's
Magazine, February; PEACE AND JUSTICE, The Out-
look, May 18; SONNET, The Outlook, November 3,
1920; To DAME PAULA, 0. S. B,, The Catholic World,
January.

Meeker, Marjorie. DANCER, All's Well, May; PHOTOGRAPH
or You, AW s Well, May; PORTBAIT BY RENOIR, AW$
Well, May; THE WATERS, The North American Re-
view, April

Meredith, Floyd. SHADOWS, Tempo, June.

Merrell, Lloyd Frank. THE INFANT LOVE, The Midland, A
Magazine of the Middle West, March.

Merten, Jack. CHILDREN AT PLAY, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, November, 1920.

Metzger, Ruth. MOONLIGHT PHANTASY, The Granite Month-
ly, January.

Michelson, Max. THE HAUNTED HAT-SHOP, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, February.

Millay, Edna St. Vincent LAMENT, The Century, March;
PASSER MORTTUUS EST, The Century, March; SONNET,
The Century, March; To A POET THAT DIED YOUNG,
The New Republic.

Miller, J. Corson. A BRIDE or CHRIST, The Catholic World,
October, 1920; ABRAHAM LINCOLN, The Buffalo En-
quirer, February 12; ARCHITECTURE, The Ave Maria,
April 30; ASPIRATION, The Catholic World, March;
CONQUERORS: IN MEMORY OF JOSEPH MAJSLY PLUNKETT,
The Magnificat, September, 1920; Dus*, The Rosary
Magazine, April; EPHEMERAE, The Forum, February;
EVENING, The Boston Transcript, April 27; HARVEST-
MOON, The Boston Transcript, January 26; LET ME
BE REMEMBERED! Contemporary Verse, April; MATES

AMATA, The Ave Maria, February 12; PANORAMA, The
Boston Transcript, February 9; THE CRUCIFIED, The
Ave Maria, March 19; THE GREAT TREES OP CALIFOR-
NIA, The Forum, October, 1920; THE HOME-LANE,
Shadowland, February; THE KNIGHT-ERRANT,
America, June 11; THE LOVER SPEAKS, Shadowland,
February; TWUJGHT, The Magnifcat, August, 1920;
VALUES, The Rosary Magazine, February; THE
RACING PIGEON, The Racing Pigeon., ApriL

Miller, Nellie Bourget. TRUANCY, The Midland, A Magazine
of the Middle West, October, 1920.

Mishkin, Olga. A DANCE, The Century, May,

Mitchell, Ruth Comfort. GAYDIANG, The Lyric West, April.

Mitchell, Stewart A CHARACTER, The Dial, August, 1920; A
PICTURE, The Dial, August, 1920; LORRAINE, The Dial,
August, 1920; POSTSCRIPT, The Dial, August, 1920.

Mixter, Florence Kilpatrick. A COUNTRY FUNERAL, The
Midland, A Magazine of the Middle West, November,
1920; SEPTEMBER, The Midland, A Magazine of the
Middle West, July; THE BRIDGE, The Midland, A
Magazine of the Middle West, July; THE MARRIAGE OF
THE SPRUCE, The Midland, A Magazine of the Middle
West, July; THE OLDER WISDOM, The Midland, A
Magazine of the Middle West, July; To A YOUNG
GIRL, The Midland, A Magazine of the Middle West,
July; WINTER LANDSCAPE, The Midland, A Magazine
of the Middle West, July.

Monro, Harold. OFFICERS' MESS (1916), Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, February; UNKNOWN COUNTRY, The Dial,
March, 1921.

Morand, Paul. ECHANOTLLON, The Dial, September, 1920;
NICE, The Dial, September, 1920.

Moreland, John Richard. ADMIRATION, The Lyric, June,
1921; CHANGELESS, The Lyric, June, 1921; GENRE, The
Lyric, July, 1921; Loss, The Lyric, April, 1921; LOVE'S
TELLING, The Lyric, May, 1921; THE FAITHFUL
MESSENGER, The Lyric, April, 1921; "TiiE PRIEST Is
COME AND THE TAPERS BURN," The Lyric, May, 1921.

Morley, Christopher. KEATS, The Bookman, February; THE
TAVERN OF THE FOOLS, The New YorJc Evening Post,
February 19, 1921; PRELIMINARY INSTRUCTIONS FOR A
FUNERAL SERVICE: BEING A POEM IN FOUR STANZAS,
N. 7. Evening Post, July 30.

Morris, John. O LENTE, LENTE, CUBBITE NOCTES EQUI, The
Measure, June, 1921.

Morton, David. ATTENDANTS, Everybody's Magawne,
November, 1920; THE TOWN (Morristown, N. J.) 9 I.
DEDICATION, II. THE DEAD, III. TRANSFORMATION, IV.

THE TOWNSMAN, Contemporary Verse, November,
1920; DISCOVERY, The Measure, March, 1921; FEVER,
Contemporary Verse, November, 1920; SONNET: FU-
GITIVES, The Century Magazine, February, 1921; IN
AX Quo STREET, The Bookman, May; JEWELS, Every-
body's Magazine, October, 1920; SONINTST: MOONS
KNOW No TIME, The Century Magazine, February,
1921; ONE DAT IN SUMMER, Everybody's Magazine,
June; RUINS, Contemporary Verse, November, 1920;
SATE, Everybody's Magazine, November, 1920; SPRING,
Contemporary Verse, November, 1920; THE SCHOOL
BOY READS His ILIAD, Contemporary Verse, Novem-
ber, 1920; VISITATION, Contemporary Verse, Novem-
ber, 1920; ACQUAINTANCE, The Nation, March 30.

Murray, Amy. "So STILL, So SORROWFUL," The Measure,
March, 1921; "AGAINST THE MOUNTAIN," The Measure,
March, 1921; LOOKING EAST AT SUNRISE, The Measure,
June, 1921.

Murray, Thomas J* VTT..T.ANELLE, The Granite Monthly,
May.

Murphy, Charles R. To THOSE WHO DESPAIR. BRAVELY, Con-
temporary Verse, April; THE CORN-FIELD, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, October, 1920; AUTUMN IN THE
VALLEY, Contemporary Verse, October, 1920; THE
DIVINE FOREST, Contemporary Verse, November, 1920.

Nathan, Robert. BELLS, Everybody's Magazine, December,
1920; MEMORY, The Century Magazine, December,
1920.

Newman, Helen L. THE ANGEL OP THE HIDDEN PLACE, The
Granite Monthly, July.

NichoII, Louise Townsend. AUSTERITY, The Measure, March,
1921; BEAUTY, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, October,
1920; DECISION, The Measure, June, 1921; WAVES,
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, October, 1920.

Norman, Hilda Laura. THE BLIND, The Grinnell Review,
February; THE UNTBIED, The Grmnell Review, June.

Norris, Goeffrey. COMPOSITION No. XIV, New Numbers,
April 6; COMPOSITION No. XIX, New Numbers, March
28.

Norris, William A. O CHANGING ONE, Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, July.

North, Jessica Nelson. A PRAYER RUG, The Grmnell Review,
September, 1920.

Norton, Grace Fallow. IRISH BLOOD, Contemporary Verse,
March, 1921; IRON HAD I, Contemporary Verse,
March, 1921.

Novak, Ruthele. INARTICULATE (To L. D. M.), Contempo-
rary Verse, February, 1921.
238

Norwood, Robert. PTTTT.TP TO CHRIST. Contemporary Verse*

July, 1921.
Noyes, Alfred. SEA DISTANCES, Harper's Magazine, October,

1920.
O'Brien, Edward J. Exrr, The Century, March.

Pliver, "Wade. PRESAGE, Contemporary Verse, June, 1921;
REQUIEM:, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, February;
VIGIL, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, February;
WHEN* I CONSIDER, Contemporary Verse, June;
WITCH or THE WOOD, Contemporary Verse, June;
WOOD-FIRE, Contemporary Verse, June, 1921.

Orcutt, Grace Stuart I WANT TO SING, The Granite Month-
ly, April.

Q'Connell, Martin T. THE BUND MAN, The Catholic World,
October, 1920.

Q'Connor, Armel. A SAINT'S PORTRAIT, The Catholic World,
April

O'Connor, Norreys Jepson. AT A TIME OF PROMISE, Con-
temporary Verse, January, 1921.

O'Neil, George. THREE POEMS: LEAVE TAKING, Contem-
porary Verse, March; NIGHT TAKES THE WINTER
FOREST, The Measure, March, 1921; REMINDERS, The
Bookman, May; SOUTH WIND, The Measure, March,
1921; THE CLARION OP SPRING, Contemporary Vtrse,
March, 1921; THE DESERTED HOUR, Contemporary
Verse, March, 1921.

O'Neill, Mary J. ALL IN ALL, The Sonnet, July-August,
1920; CORK, The Sonnet, March- April; COWARDICE,
The Sonnet, March- April; LAMENT, The Sonnet, July-
August, 1920; LOVERS, The Sonnet, July-August, 1920;
OUTLASTING, The Sonnet, September-October, 1920;
PARADOX, The Sonnet, July-August, 1920; SUB FERULA,
The Sonnet, March-April.

O'Riordan, ConaL MY LITTLE BOY'S NEW YEAH PBAYEH,
All's Well, February.

O'Seasnain, Brian Padraic. ALONE, The Catholic World,
July.

Parker, Helen Adams. EARLY MORNING, The Granite
Monthly, November, 1920 ; RAIN IN A*RIL, The Gran-
ite Monthly, April.

Patterson, Antoinette de Coursey. IN A MOONLIT GARDEN,
Contemporary Verse, June; THE SIESTA (From, the
French of Jose-Maria de Heredia), Contemporary
Verse, June.

Penman, Harriet Clay. OLD WIVES, Contemporary Verse,
October, 1920.

2S9

Percy, William Alexander. A BRITTANT LOVE SONG, The
Bookman, May; A PRATER ANSWERED, The Double-
Dealer, June; A TRUE SPOBT, The Double-Dealer,
June; COURAGE, Contemporary Verse, February;
EXCHANGE, New Numbers, March 28; IN THE DELTA,
The North American Review, March; THHEE SPIRITU-
ALS: His PEACE, HYMN OF THE MAGDALENE, THE
HOLT WOMEN, Contemporary Verse, July; ONE WAY
To BE POPULAR, The Double-Dealer, June; TEMPERA-
MENTAL, The Double-Dealer, June; SONG, The Pagan,
June-July, 1921.

Peters, Harold S. BEASTS, Contemporary Verse, August,
1920.

Peterson, Frederick. THREE WISE MEN OP THE EAST, The
Nation, June 1.

Peyton, John R. C. THREE RIDERS, Contemporary Verse,
March, 1921.

Phares, Earle. FAMUJARTTT, Contemporary Verse, August,
1920.

Phillips, Charles. THE SILVER MAPLE, The Catholic World,
September, 1920.

Phillpotts, Eden. THE PUDDLE, Scribner's Magazine, Sep-
tember, 1920.

Pinckney, Josephine, IN THE BARN, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, July; STRANGE, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
July; SWAMP LILIES, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
July; THE OUTCAST, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, July.

Pinder, Frances Dickenson. I AM THE SEA'S, Contemporary
Verse, June, 1921; MAGIC CASEMENTS, The New
Republic, August 11, 1920; THE SECRET, Contempo-
rary Verse, June, 1921.

Piper, Edwin Ford. HOME, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
March ; IN THE POTATO FIELD, The Midland, A Maga-
zine of the Middle West, April; MARCH WIND, Poetry,
A Magazine of Verse, March; THE DEBT, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, March; WHISPERING OBTEN,
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, March.

Piper, Margaret Rebecca. SPRING Is ON HER WAT, Con-
temporary Verse, May, 1921.

Poole, Fanny Runnells. AT PEACE BENEATH BLUE SBGDES,
The Granite Monthly, July; FROM THE T&AIL, The
Granite Monthly, July; THE MORNING COMETH, The
Granite Monthly, December, 1920.

Poore, Dudley. THET RIDE THROUGH THE OLIVE GARDEN,
The Dial, October, 1920.

240

Porter, Anna. FAB. NIENTE, The Lyric West, April; HAUNT,
The Lyric West, April; THE VOICE, The Lyric West,
April.

Potts, John H, Lowden. MOLOKAI, The Catholic World,
June.

Pound, Ezra, ODE POUR L'EUGCTION DE SON SEPULCHRE,
The Dial, September, 1920; YEUX GLANQUES, The
Dial, September, 1920.

Pratt, Harry Noyes. THE STABS, New Numbers, April 6.

Pray, Frances Mary. ALONE, The Granite Monthly, Novem-
ber, 1920.

Provost, Marie Louise. Bur NOT THE SEA ! Berliner's Maga-
zine, August, 1920.

Pulsifer, Harold Trowbridge. "I ACCEPT," The Outlook,
June 1, 1921.

Purdy, Charles McMorris. DREAMS, The Bookman, June.

Putnam, F. S. His RENDEZVOUS, Contemporary Verse,
August, 1920; PBESAGE, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
January.

Quirk, S. J., Charles J, THE FIBST CHRISTMAS CAROL, The
Catholic World, December, 1920; THE SLEEPING
BEAUTY, The Catholic World, April; THE PBESENTA-
TION, The Catholic World, February.

Ravenel, Beatrice. THE GYPSY, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, October, 1920; THE OLD MAN, The Measure,
May, 1921.

Raymund, Bernard. BLACKBIRD, The* Measure, July, 1921;
DRAMA, The Midland, A Magwtine of the Middle West,
March; FLUTES AND STRINGS, Contemporary Verse,
August, 1920 ; LISTENER, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
December, 3920; THE DARK Poor, Contemporary
Verse, June, 1921; THE TOWER, The Midland, A Maga-
zine of the Middle West, March; WANDERER, The New
Republic, June 29; WATERGATES, New Numbers, March
28.

Redman, Ben Ray. MAGIC, Harper's Magazine, November,
1920.

Reed, Edward Bliss. THE SHEPHERDS' FIELD, The Yale Re-
view, January.

Reely, Mary Katherine. RESURGENCE, The Midland, A
Magazine of the Middle West, April; THE TRAIN-
PASSES, The Midland, A Magazine of the Middle West,
April.

Reese, Lizette Woodworth. A ROSE, The Lyric, June, 1921;
APRIL "WEATHER, The Lyric, April, 1921.

Rice, Cale Young. THE GREAT SEDUCER, The Century Maga-
zine, December, 1920.

Rice, Ruth Mason. TRAILING ARBUTUS, Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, May.

Rich, H. Thompson. SONG, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
April.

Ridge, Lola. CACTUS SEED, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
September, 1920; CHILD AND WIND, The Bookman,
March; INCOGNITO (To Padraie Colum), The Literary
Review, N. T. Evening Post, January 22 ; THE ATLAN-
THUS THOSE, The Measure, April, 1921; THE DREAM,
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, September, 1920 ; ALTI-
TUDE, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, September, 1920;
AFTER STORM, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, Septem-
ber, 1920; WILD DUCK, I.-IL, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verge, September, 1920.

Riggs, Katharine. MOCKERY, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
December, 1920.

Rittenhouse, Jessie B. THE HAUNTED HEART, Harper's
Magazine, October, 1920; THE RADIANT LASS, The
Lyric, July, 1921.

Ritter, Margaret Tod. SONNET TO A PLOUGH-WOMAN OP
NORWAY, Contemporary Verse, January.

Roberts, Elizabeth Madox. A CHILD ASLEEP, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, July; CRESCENT MOON, Poetry t A
Magazine of Verse, July; MY HEART, Poetry, A Maga-
zine of Verse, July; STRANGE TREE, Poetry, A Mag-
azine of Verse, July; THE CORNFIELD, Poetry, A Maga-
zine of Verse, July; THE PILASTER, Poetry, A Maga-
zine of Verse, July; THE STAR, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, July; WATER NOISES, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, July.

Roberts, Mary Eleanor. LIFE THE LION TAMER, Contempo-
rary Verse, February, 1921; MIRAGE, Contemporary
Verse, February, 1921.

Robinson, Edwin Arlington. JOB THE REJECTED, Th*
Literary Review, N+ Y, Evening Post, January 22;
MANY ARE CALLED, The New Republic, November 3,
1920; MODERNITIES, The Dial, May; MONADNOCK,
THROUGH THE TREES, The Outlook, January 5, 1921;
RECALLED, The Bookman, April ; THE LONG RACE, The
New Republic, September 29, 1920; THE TREE IN
PAMELA'S GARDEN, The New Republic, November 24,
1920; VAIN GRATUITIES, The New Republic; BEN
TEOVATO, The Nation, January 26; LOST ANCHORS,
February 12.

Roe, Robert J. A WALK AT EVENING IN THE DESERT, DAWN
AT SEA, THE LOOEIOUT, RECUPERATED, SPRING SONG,
SUNRISE ON CAJON, THE ALBATROSS, THOUGHTS, Con-
temporary Verse, April, 1921; IMMORTALITY, INCUBUS,
Contemporary Verse, September, 1920.

43

Rogers, Jessica. HOME, Everybody's Magazine, October,
1920.

Rollins, Leighton. His THOUGHTS SHALL NEVER DIE, The
Granite Monthly, November, 1920; PRESENCE, The
Granite Monthly, March; UNBORN STABS, The Granite
Monthly, July; THE AVIATOR, The Grinnell Review,
January; THOUGHTS ON THE COLORS OP NIGHT, The
Granite Monthly, May.

Root, E. Merril. A VISITOR, New Numbers, March 28;
CRANBERRY MARSHES, Contemporary Verse, Septem-
ber, 1920.

Rorty, James. PRELUDE: WHEN WE DEAD AWAKEN (The
Nation's Prize Poem), The Nation, February 9; THE
DAY: JULY 2, The Nation, July 27; CALIFORNIA DIS-
SONANCE, The Freeman, February 16.

Rosenbaum, Benjamin. GLIMPSES OF HER, Poetry, A Maga-
zine of Verse, January; GONE, Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, January; IN A PUBLIC LIBRARY, The Mid-
land, A Magazine of the Middle West, July; MY
PURPLE GOWN FROM TYRE, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, January; SEEKING LOVE, Poetry , A Magazine
of Verse, January.

Rosenthal, A. A. FANTASY, Poetry 9 A Magazine of Verse,
October, 1920.

Rosenthal, David. THE DAYS, The Nation, March 2;
TRUANT-LEAVES, The New Republic, August 4, 1920;
WARNING, The Measure, April, 1921; YDONI SINGS TO
His PEOPLE, The New Republic, November 3, 1920.

Rossiter, Ida B. LIFE, The Granite Monthly, January; THE
OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAIN, The Granite Monthly,
March.

Runbeck, Margie-Lee. EVANESCENCE, Tempo, June; NON-
CHALANCE, The Granite Monthly, May.

Ryan, Kathryn White. DEATH, The Measure, April, 1921;
To A CHILD, The Catholic World, May; WOMAN OF
MISTS, IRELAND, The Catholic World, July.

Sabel, Marx G. A FABLE, The Bookman, February; DOWN
A HILL, Contemporary Verse, March, 1921; JEREMIAD,
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, June; No GOOD THING,
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, June; THE STRANGB
LOAD, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, June; WITH-
DRAWAL, The Double-Dealer, June.

Sackville, Margaret EPITAPHS, AWs Well, April.

Sanborn, Pitts. AFTER A FOOL'S BANQUET, The Measure,
May, 1921 ; JEANNE DE BORDEAUX, The Measure, May,
1921; Two SONNETS, The Measure, May, 1921;
TRISTAN OF MOBBIHAN, The Measure, March, 1921.

Sandburg, Carl. BLACK HORIZONS, The New Republic;
HIKER AT MIDNIGHT, The Bookman, March; JAILBIRDS,
The New Republic f March 9; THE DINOSAUR BOXES,
The New Republic, April 20; UNINTENTIONAL
PAINT, The New Republic, April 20.

Sanders, Emmy Veronica. ADELAIDE CRAPSEY, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, February; BEGGARS, The Measure,
May, 1921; HILLTOP DUET, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, February; THE FISHERMAN, The Double-
Dealer, June.

Santmyer, Helen. FOR OLD BELIEFS, The Midland, A Maga-
zine of the Middle West, April

Sapir, Edward. A GIRL, The Measure, June, 1921; OVER-
LOOKED, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, May; SHE
SITS VACANT-EYED, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
May; THE OLD TOWN, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
May.

Sarett, Lew. THE Box OP GOD, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, April.

Sassoon, Siegfried. SCIENTIFIC RAPTURE, The New Repub-
lic, April 6; FINN FANTASIA, The Bookman, June;
"THE CASE FOR THE MINERS," The Nation, May 18.

Saul, George Brandon. "As THE VIOLETS CAME," Con-
temporary Verse, May; DAWN: A DEAD GIRL ON THE
BEACH, Contemporary Verse, September, 1920; I LOVE
THE MOUNTAINS, Contemporary Verse, September,
1920; OP AN INVALID STRICKEN IN YOUTH, Contempo-
rary Verse, May, 1921; THE STRANGER'S SONG, The
Measure, May, 1921.

Saunders, Whitelaw. AN OLD SPINNET, All's Well, April;
THE MASQUERADE, The Grinnell Review, January; THE
MATINEE: A RONDEAU", Contemporary Verse, April,
1921.

Scanlan, J. A. ST. CATHARINE, The Catholic World, April.

Scarborough, Dorothy. THE PAWN SHOP, Everybody's
Magazine, November, 1920.

Schauffler, Robert Haven. POET TO READER, Contemporary
Verse, January, 1921.

Schneider, Isidor. A HYMN FOR THE LYNCHERS, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, October, 1920; A MEMORY, Poetry,
A Magazine of Verse, October, 1920; ADVICE TO MAX-
WELL BODENHEIM, The Literary Review, N. T. Eve-
ning Post, January 22; THE HEROES, Poetry, A Maga-
zine of Verse, October, 1920.

Scollard, Clinton. A GREEK SONG, 8cribner*s Magazine,
April; AN INTIMATE OF NIGHT, Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, February; PASTORAL, Harper's Magazine,

244

September, 1920; THE GBJEAT EVENT, Harper's Maga-
zine, January; WHITE SAILS, The Lyric , May, 1921.

Scott, Evelyn. AIR FOR G STRINGS, The Dial, September,
1920; ASCENSION: AUTUMN DUSK IN CENTRAL, PARK*
The Dial, September, 1920; SPRING SONG, The Dial,
September, 1920.

Scott, Harold P. "RIGHT ROYAL" A REVIEW, The Detroit
Sunday News, January 9.

Seiffert, Marjorie Allen. As You ARE Now, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, July; CUBIST PORTRAIT, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, July; DINGY STREET, Poetry >
A Magazine of Verse, July; DREAM-KISS, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, July; INTERIOR, Poetry, A Maga-
zine of Verse, July; NOCTURNE, Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, July; PORTRAIT OF A LADY, Poetry, A Maga-
zine of Verse, July; SHADOW, Poetry, A Magazine of
V^rse, July; THE SHOP, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, July; Two WOMEN, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, July.

Seitz, Mildred. THE WANTON, Harper's Magazine, June.

Selleck, Lilian E. THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION, The-
Catholic World, December, 1920.

Seymour, George Steele. STEVENSON PORTRAITS, Contempo-
rary Verse, February, 1921.

ShaJlcross, Eleanor C. CHIVALRY, The Catholic World,
April

Shanks, Edward. THE ROCK POOL, The Century Magazine,
November, 1920.

Shaw, Frances. RAIN, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, Febru-
ary; UNFAILING, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse f
February.

Sheehan, Murray. THE AFTER-PATH, All's Well, June; THB
WIND, All's Well, February.

Shepard, Alice M. THE ROAD TO JERICHO, The Granite
Monthly, April; TREES IN AUTUMN, The Granite
Monthly, October, 1920.

Sherman, L. Adelaide. IN VIOLET TIME, The Granite Month-
ly, April.

Sherry, Laura. A WOODSMAN, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
October, 1920; BOHEMIAN TOWN, Poetry, A Magazme
of Verse, October, 1920; JEAN JOSEPH ROLETTE,
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, October, 1920; Louis
DBS CHIENS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse t October,
1920; ON OUR FARM, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
October, 1920; THE HUNTER, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, October, 1920; MY TOWN, Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, October, 1920.

245

Siegrist, Mary. THE CHOICE, Everybody's Magazine,
November, 1920.

Sitwell, Osbert. BEAD MAN'S WOOD, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, December, 1920; MBS. FBEUDENTHAL CONSULTS
THE WITCH OF ENDOR, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
December, 1920; MALGRE LIN, The Dial, December,
1920.

Skinner, Constance Lindsay. STABS, Contemporary Verse,
August, 1920.

Smith, Dorothy W* TAM O'SHANTERS, The Granite Monthly,
February.

Smith, Hilda W. Mm ORCHARDS, Contemporary Verse,
August, 1920.

Smith, Lewis Worthington. FIRES IN THE URN, Contempo-
rary Verse, September, 1920.

Smith, Marion Couthouy. To A FRIEND IN THE WOODS, Th*
Outlook, September 3, 1920.

Snow, Royall. THE STREET SINGER, Contemporary Verse,
January, 1921.

South, Ira. VIEW-POINTS, Everybody's Magazine, Novem-
ber, 1920.

Spates, Anna Elisabeth. I DREAM, New York 8un, January
6.

Speyer, Leonora. THE PET, The Bookman, April; THJC
TEAR-BOTTLE, Contemporary Verse, March; THERAPY,
The Measure, July, 1921; To A LITTLE XIIiH CEN-
TURY FIGURE OF THE CRUCIFIED CHRIST: THE CROSS
MISSING, The Sonnet, September-October, 1920; Two
ON A HILL, Contemporary Verse, November, 1920;
VICTORY, The Nation, March 30; MARY MAGDALENE,
The Nation, May 25; MEASURE ME, SKY, The Measure.

Speight, E. E. THE ADVENTURERS, Harper's Magazine,
August, 1920.

Spire, Andre. DAGMARA, The Dial, March, 1921 ; MIDI, The
Dial, March, 1921.

Stafford, Wendell Phillips. SOWER AND REAPER, Scribner 9 *
Magazine, December, 1920.

Stait, Virginia. WEIGHTS AND MEASURES, Contemporary
Verse, March; APPOINTMENT, American Magazine,
May.

Starbuck, Victor. THE FREEHOLDER, Poetry, A Magazine of

Verse, September, 1920.

Stark, Dare, UNDER ALDERS, The Measure, April, 1921.
Steiner, Richard Morrow. BLACK BELT AT NIGHT, The

Grinnell Review, March-
Stephens, Mary Vinson. 'WHEN WE SHALL PART," The

Measure, April, 1921.

246

Sterling, George. GOOD AND EVIL, The Sonnet, December,
1920; MIRAGE, The Nation, April 13.

Stern, Caroline. THE LOCUST, The Congregationalist, Janu-
ary; THE ELM, The Congregationalist, January.

Stern, Elaine. VALENTINE, The Granite Monthly^ April.

Stevens, Wallace. CORTEGE FOR ROSENBLOOM, The Measure,
March, 1921 ; LULU GAT, Contact.

Stevenson, Alec B. THE FIRST WHITETHROAT, Contempo-
rary Verse, April, 1921.

Stewart, H. W. GUM-TREES, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
November, 1920; SUPPLEMENTS, Poetfry, A Magazine of
Verse, November, 1920.

Stillson, Thelma, FREIGHT-CARS, Everybody's Magazine,
November, 1920; GARDEN SONG, Everybody's Maga-
zine, November, 1920.

Stockett, M. Letitia, PEGASUS, Contemporary Verse, Janu-
ary, 1921; THE FALLOW FIELDS, Contemporary Verse,
March, 1921.

Stoddard, Anne. To M. D, The Century, August, 1920,

Stone, Eliot Kays. WHEN THE MASTER PAINTS His PICTUBES
IN THE DESERTS OP THE WEST, Contemporary Verse,
September, 1920.

Stork, Charles Wharton. MIDWAY, The Freeman, March 2;
To JOSEPH SEVEHN: FOR THE CENTENARY or KEAT'S
DEATH, 23 FEBRUARY, 1921, The Freeman, February
23; FRODING'S GRAVE, The Scandinavian Review.

Strobe!, Marion. ANODYNE, Poetry, A Magazi/ne of Verse,
February; HIGH DIVE, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
February; I GIVE SMILES, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, February; KINDNESS, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, February; LITTLE THINGS, Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, February; MARRIAGE-CAPRICE, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, February; MISERERE, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, February; WITHOUT WORDS,
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, February.

Suckow, Ruth. BEAUTY, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
June; GRAMPA SCHULER, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
June; PRAYER AT TIMBER-LINE, Poetry/ , A Magazine of
Verse, June; THE ODD ONES, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, June.

Symons, Arthur. BODY'S BLOOD, The Double-Dealer, June.

Taggard, Genevieve. BOYS AND GIRLS, Poetry* A Magazine
of Verse, June; DEDICATION, The Measure, June, 1921;
ENDLESS CIRCLE, Poetry, A "Magazine of Verse, Febru-
ary; DROUTH, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, Febru-
ary; FOUND, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, February;

ICE AGE, The Measure, March, 1921; LOST, Poetry,
A Magazine of Verse, Februaiy; MARRIED, Poetry,
A Magazine of Verse, February; MOONRISE MOCKERY,
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, February; SATURDAY
AFTERNOON, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, February;
SEA-CHANGE, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, February;
TROPICAL GIRL TO HER GARDEN* Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, February; ZENITH, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, February.

Tagore, Rabindranath. THREE SPECIMENS REPRODUCING THE
METRES OF THE ORIGINALS, The Measure, June, 1921.

Taylor, Marian Warner. BIRTH THROUGH DEATH, Con-
temporary Verse, May, 1921.

Teasdale, Sara. (The Dark Cup), "A LITTLE WHILE," Con-
temporary Verse, September, 1920; (The Dark Cup),
BELLS, Contemporary Verse, September, 1920; EFFIGY
OF A NUN, The Bookman, May; (The Dark Cup), IN
THE END, Contemporary Verse, September, 1920; (The
Dark Cup), MAY, Contemporary Verse, September,
1920; THE CONFLICT, Everybody's Magazine, Septem-
ber, 1920; (The Dark Cup), "THE DREAMS OF MY
HEART/* Contemporary Verse, September, 1920; THE
MYSTERY, Everybody's Magazine, September, 1920.

Thomas, Edith M. INTIMATE STRANGER, Harper's Magazine,
July; 'TELL ME YOUR DREAM,** Harper's Magazine,
January.

Thomson, P. H. "ONCE UPON A TIME," The Orinnell Re-
view, August, 1920.

Thone, Frank E. A. AN OLD SPINET, The Grinell Review,
September, 1920; SAMARITANA (To One Who Be-
friended Francis Thompson), The Grinnell Review,
September, 1920; WANING, The Grinnell Review, Sep-
tember, 1920.

Thorp, K Howard. " 'LIGHT, STRANGER,' LIGHT," Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, August, 1920; OLD HANK, Poetry,
A Magazine of Verse, August, 1920; OLD PAINT,
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, August, 1920; SKY-
HIGH, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, August, 1920;
THE LITTLE Cow-GiRL, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
August, 1920; PECOS TOM, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, August, 1920; WHAT'S BECOME OF THH
PUNCHERS? Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, August,
1920; WOMEN OUTLAWS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
August, 1920;

Tietjens, Eunice. (Trans.), SPRING, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, November, 1920; To NIJINSKT, The Measure,
June, 1921; (Trans.), THE RED FISH, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, November, 1920.

248

Tima, Adul. WILD PLUM, The New York Tribune.

Tinckom-Fernandez, W. G. THE BROKEN IDOL, The Literary
Review, N. Y. Evening Post, April 9.

Towne, Charles Hanson. IN THE WORLD'S CATHEDRAL, The
Century, October, 1920; TIDES, Harper's Magazine,
September, 1920.

Trapnell, Edna Valentine. THE SPHINX, Everybody's Maga-
zine, September, 1920.

Troth, John T. BALLAD OP THE "STEVE GIBARD," Contempo-
rary Verse, April, 1921.

Troy, Daniel W. IT DOES MAKE A DIFFERENCE, Contempo-
rary Verse, February, 1921.

True, Alida Cogswell. "SHAKER MEETING," The Granite
Monthly, March.

Tunstall, Virginia Lyne. ALONE, The Lyric, July, 1921;
IMMORTALITY, The Lyric, May, 1921; QUESTING, The
Lyric, April, 1921 ; WINDS OP SPRING, The Lyric, June,
1921.

TurbyfiH, Mark. REPLETION, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
June; THINGS NOT SEEN, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, June; THE INTANGIBLE SYMPHONY, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, June; THE POWER OP NOTHING S
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, June; THE SEA STORM,
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, June.

Twitchell, Anna Spencer. A LATE SPRING, Contemporary
Verse, March, 1921; I KNOW, Contemporary Verse,
January, 1921; LOST SOUL, New Republic, September
1, 1920; QUATRAIN, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
February; RAIN, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
February; SONG, Contemporary Verse, January, 1921;
UNFAILING, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, February.

Underwood, John Curtis. CHEMISTRY, Everybody's Maga-
zine, April.

Untermeyer, Louis. BOY AND TADPOLES, The Century,
October, 1920; CHILD DANCERS, The New Republic,
June 15; D. H. LAWRENCE, The New Republic,
August 11, 1920; MATTER, The Century Magazine,
December, 1920.

Van Dyke, Henry. CANDELABRA, Scribner i s Magazine, Octo-
ber, 1920; MALGHJS, Scribner's Magazine, October,
1920; PROMISE-TIME, Scribner's Magazine, October,
1920; SALUTE TO THE TREES, Scribner's Magazine, May;
THE RED BRIDGE AT NIKKO, Scribner's Magazine,
October, 1920; THE REPOSE OP NARA, Scribner's Maga-
zine, October, 1920; THE SPIRIT OP JAPAN, Scribner's

249

Magazine, October, 1920; WILD AZALEAS, Scribner**
Magazine, October, 1920.

Van Rensselaer, Mrs. Schuyler. OP A BEAUTIFUL POEM
(Three Voices), The North American Review, June.

Van Slyke, Berenice K. FOE A LITTLE TIME, Contemporary
Verse, September, 1920.

Vildrac, Charles. A FRIENDSHIP (Trans, by Witter Banner),
The Dial, May; THE ONE SONG (Trans, by Witter
Bynner), The Dial, May.

Vinal, Harold. APRIL, Tempo, June; ALIEN, The Granite
Monthly, January; AT NIGHT, Contemporary Verse,
September, 1920; BURIED, The Grinnell Review, May;
DEPARTURE, The Grmnell Review, May; EVANESCENCE,
The Pagan, November-December, 1920; FORGOTTEN,
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, June; GLIMPSES, Con-
temporary Verse, September, 1920; INVOCATION,
Tempo, June; MEMORIES, New Numbers, March 28;
MISER, The Pagan Magazine, February; MY OWN,
Contemporary Verse, September, 1920; PAUSE, The
Granite Monthly, March; PITY, The Grinnell Review,
May; SEA LONGING, Contemporary Verse, June; SONG,
The Springfield Republican, August 25, 1920; SONNET,
The Granite Monthly, May; SONNET, Town Topics,
January; TALISMAN, Ne.w Numbers, April 6; TEMPO,
New Numbers, April 6; To NOVEMBER, The Springfield
Republican, November 1, 1920; UNBOUND, Saucy
Stories, July; VERA FOKLNA AS SALOME, The Pagan
Magazine, May.

Wallace, Grace. THE ACCOUNT, The Lyric West, April;
VISITORS, The Lyric West, April.

Walleser, Joseph. BETRAYED, The Grinnell Review, Febru-
ary; THE THREE WITCHES, The Grinnell Review,
August, 1920.

Wallingford, L. A. A PRESENT-DAY SAINT, The Catholic
World, July.

Wallis, Keene. GOSPEL WITH BANJO AND CHORUS, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, October, 1920; POET ON A FLAT
CAR, The Measure, May, 1921.

Walton, Eda Lou. FINALITY, The Measure, April, 1921 ; FOR
MOTHER ON HER BIRTHDAY, The Txas Review, April;
HANDS, The Texas Review, October, 1920; I, WHO
LOVE BEAUTY, The Texas Review, April; INTO THE
STILLNESS OP YOUR GRIEF, The Texas Review, October,
1920; INSANITY, The Measure. April, 1921; LOVE, Con-
temporary Verse, March, 1921; NAVAHO POEMS, The
Measure, June, 1921; PATTERNS, Contemporary Verse,
March, 1921; PINK PETALS, The Texas Review, Octo-

250

ber, 1920; REFLECTIONS OF A PARALYTIC, Contemporary
Verse, March, 1921; SHE WHO WAS I, The Texas Re-
view, April; SUTTE FOR IOLA, The Texas Review, Octo-
ber, 1920; THE GOAL, Contemporary Verse, March,
1921; THEY HAVE BUILT THEM MANY HOUSES, The
Texas Review, October, 1920; UNDER AN UMBBELLA,
The Texas Review, October, 1920; WARNING, The
Texas Review, April; I SHOULD LIKE To LIVE rsr A
BALLAD WORLD, The Nation, April 27.

Warburg, James Paul. FAME, The Century, September,
1920; THE DARK STAR, The Century Magazine, Janu-
ary; THE STILL FLAME, The Century Magazine, Janu-
ary.

Ware, Richard D. JOHN SATS HE'S DEAD, The Granite
Monthly, March*

Warren, G. O "I REACHED Up FOR YOUR HEART," The Dial,
March, 1921.

Warvelle, Effie Bangs. THE WIND, Contemporary Verse,
January.

Waterbury, Florence. MATHEMATICS, Scribner's Magazine,
July.

Watson, Virginia. THE PINE TREE, Harper's Magazine,
June.

Wattles, Willard. AND THE Two CHHISTS ANSWER, Con-
temporary Verse, July.

Weimar, Edward William. A SONNET, The Outlook, Octo-
ber 2T, 1920.

Welles, Winifred. CLIFFS, The North American Review,
January; DIANA, The Measure, March, 1921; JEAL-
OUSY, Contemporary Verse, December, 1920; REVELA-
TION, The Measure, May, 1921 ; THE DRIFTWOOD HARP,
The North American Review, September, 1920;
WOMEN AND ORCHARDS, Contemporary Verse, Decem-
ber, 1920; WORSHIP, Contemporary Verse, August,
1920.

Wheeler, Mary H. CANTERBURY BELLS, The Granite Month-
ly, January; THE MINUTES, The Granite Monthly ,,
November, 1920.

Wheelock, John Hall. Three Poems, Contemporary Verse,
April; MIRROR, All's Well, May; PLAINT, All's Well
March; THE POET TELLS OF His LOVE, Scribner's
Magazine, August, 1920; THE SORROWFUL MAS-
QUERADE, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, January.

Whicher, George Meason, WYCH-HAZEL, The Grinnell Re-
view, August, 1920.

Whitcomb, G. Faunce. FRAGMENT, The Granite Monthly^
January; To DAWN, The Granite Monthly, March.

251

Whiteside, Mary Brent. NEW POETS, New Numbers, March
28; OLD TBEES, Harper's Magazine, August, 1920; THE
ANCIENT SECRET, Harper's Magazine, March.
Whitford, Robert Calvin. LAMENT FOE MIDIOFF, The Knox

Alumnus, April-May.

Whitmarsh, Esther A. LIFE EVERLASTING, Poetry, A Maga-
zine of Verse, October, 1920.
Whiton, Juliet. MY BOOKS, Scribner's Magazme, December,

1920.

Wbitsett, George F. HE CAME TO ME, AWs Well, May; ITS
SLAVE, All's Well, May; SONG OF LIFE, All's Well,
April; STEEL MILL AT NIGHT, All's Well, February;
TIDE MOON, AWs Well, March; THE SEVEN O'CLOCK
SYMPHONY, All's Well, February.

Widdemer, Margaret, THE PIGEON HOUSE, Contemporary
Verse, March, 1921; THE BREAKING, The Bookman,
February.
Wiggin, Dorothy Pettit. HALF-GIFTS, Contemporary Verse,

May, 1921.

Wilbur, Harriette. THE POSTMAN A PANTOUM, Contempo-
rary Verse, August, 1920.

Wiley, Harley R. MY HORSE, J3cribner t s Magazine, Decem-
ber, 1920.
Willard, Pierrepont. ALONG THE BAYOUS, The Lyric West,

April.
Wilkinson, Marguerite. THE SOMERSET FARMER, The North

American Review, March.
Williams, Claim THE PROOF, Contemporary Verse, August,

1920.

Williams, Oscar. A CRYING, The Grinnell Review, June;
BECAUSE, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, July;
CHIAHASCUROS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse } Septem-
ber, 1920; CLOUDS, The Grinnell Review, March; COB-
WEBS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, July; FAILURE,
The Midland, A Magazine of the Middle West, March;
FROST NOCTURNE, The Grinnell Review, February;
FROST NOCTURNE, Contemporary Verse, February,
1921; GREY, Poetry, A Magazine* of Verse, July; How
MANY? The Midland, A Magazine of the Middle West,
January; IF ONE SHOULD ASK, The Grinnell Review,
Hay; MAN, The Midland, A Magazine of the Middle
West, January; MOOD, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
September^ 1920; MOTES, Poetry ', A Magazine of Verse,
July; MY GREATNESS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
September, 1920; NEVER, The Grmnell Review, May;
MY LOVE, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, September,
1920; ON DEATH, The Grinnell Review, January;
ONLY THE HOPE, THE DESIRE, The Grinnell Review,

252

May; RAINS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, July;
REVENGE, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, September,
1920; SNOW NOCTURNE, The Midland, A Magazine of
the Middle West, March; SONG, The GrinneU Review,
May; THE BUBBLE, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
July; THE BUBBLE, The Grinnell Review, February;
THE CORN, Pictorial Review, April; THE DARKNESS,
The Grinnell Review, February; THE EARTH, The
OrinneU Review, June; THE GOLDEN FLEECE, Poetry,
A Magazine of Verse, July; THE* OCEAN, The Grinnell
Review, February; THE OLD MAN, Everybody's Maga-
zine, September, 1920; THE OLD PERPLEXITY, The
Nati&n, July 27; THE RETURN, Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, July; THE TRAVELER, The Grinnell Review,
May; THE SKY, The Grinnell Review, May; THE SUB-
WAT Is LIT, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, July; To
ONE UNKNOWN, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, Sep-
tember, 1920; WHEN AT LAST, The Grinnell Review,
February; A GOODNIGHT, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, January.

Williams, William Carlos. A GOODNIGHT, Poetry, A Maga-
zine of Verse, January; BLIZZARD, The Dial, August,
1920; PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR, Contact; PORTRAIT OF
A LADY, The Dial, August, 1920; SPRING STORM, The
Dial, August, 1920; THE DESOLATE FIELD, The Dial f
August, 1920; To WAKEN AN OLD LADY, The Dial,
August, 1920; WILLOW POEM, The Dial, August, 1920.

Williamson, Estella M. THE VIOLINCELLO, The Lyric West,
April.

Wilson, Albert Frederick. WOODROW WILSON, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse-, September, 1920.

Wilson, Jr., Edmund. G. H. Q., JANUARY, 1919, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, November, 1920; NOT HERE,
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, November, 1920.

Wilson, John French, CANDLES UNTIL THE DAWN: I. FARE-
WELL TO THE OLD SONGS; II. WE MEAN TO KEEP; III.
A PRAYER; IV. LEST THESE THINGS PERISH; V.
CLOUDS WITHOUT WATER; VI. NOT FROM THE HILLS;
VII. DEAD WATERS, Contemporary Verse, July, 1921.

Wilson, Stanley Kidder. WHAT POET CAN BE SURE? Con-
temporary Verse, August, 1920; WHERE Do You READ
MY LETTERS? Contemporary Verse, August, 1920.

Winters, Yvor. BALLAD, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
December, 1920; BALLAD OF MEN, Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, December, 1920; HAWK'S EYES, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, December, 1920; DEATH GOES
BEFORE ME, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, December,
1920; SONG FOR A SMALL BOY WHO HERDS GOATS,

253

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, December, 1920; THE
FAR VOICE, Poetry f A Magazine of Verse, December,
1920; THE IMMOBILE WIND, Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, December, 1920; THE PBIESTHOOD, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, D,ecember, 1920; THE WALKER,
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, December, 1920; Two
SONGS OF ADVENT, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
December, 1920; WHERE MY SIGHT GOES, Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, December, 1920.

Wintrowe, Norine. ROSE JAR, The Grinnell Review, June.

Wood, Clement. THE MAN BENEATH THE SKY, Contempo-
rary Verse, July, 1921; CANOPUS, The Nation, June
22.

Woodberry, Laura G. SNOWFLAKES, Contemporary Verse,
January, 1921; THE MABSH, Contemporary Verse,
January, 1921.

Woodhull, W. S. THE DILETTANTE, Contemporary Verse,
January, 1921.

Woods, Bertha Gerneaux. THE FOSTER CHILD, New York
Sun, January 6.

Woods, Edna Hamilton. THREE POEMS, Contemporary
Verse, March, 1921.

Wolf, Robert L. His HOUSE, The Measure, March, 1921.

Wolfe, Ian M. WILD APPLES, Contemporary Verse, October,
1920.

Wolfe, Walter B. Au SOIJEIL, The Granite Monthly, March;
CAESURA, The Granite Monthly, May.

Wylie, Elinor. ATAVISM, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
April; AUGUST, The New Republic, August 25, 1920;
BRONZE TRUMPETS AND SEA WATER, The New Repub-
lic, April 27, 1921; "FIRE AND SLEET AND CANDLE-
LIGHT, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, April; MAD-
JUAN'S SONG, The Century Magazine, October, 1920;
SEA-BLUE EYES, The Century Magazine, June; SILVER
FILAGREE, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, April; THE
EAGLE AND THE MOLE, The New Republic, April 13;
THE FAIRY GOLDSMITH, The Century Magazine, Au-
gust, 1920; THE LOST PATH, The Century Magazine,
November, 1920; THE TORTOISE IN ETERNITY, The
New Republic, April 13, 1921; VELVET SHOES, Poetry,
A Magazine of Verse, April.

Wynne, Annette. IF A DREAM SHOULD BREAK, Contempo-
rary Verse, September, 1920.

Yeats, John Butler. AUTUMN, The Measure, July, 1921.

Yeats, William Butler. MICHAEL ROBERTS AND THE DANCER,
The Dial, November, 1920; EASTER, 1916, The Dial,
November, 1920; UNDER SATURN, The Dial, November,

254

1920; THE ROSE TREE, The Dial, November, 1920 r
ON A POLITICAL PRISONER, The Dial, November, 1920;
TOWARDS BREAK OF DAT, The Dial, November, 1920;
DEMOX AND BEAST, The Dial, November, 1920; A
MEDIATION IN TIME or WAR, The Dial, 1920; THE
SECOND COMING, The Dial, November, 1920; ALL
SOTTL'S NIGHT, The New Republic, March 9.
Yoffie, Leah Rachel FAITH, Contemporary Verse, Septem-
ber, 1920; A CRT OF THE FOREIGN-BORN, Contempo-
rary Verse, September, 1920.

255

ARTICLES AND REVIEWS OF POETS AND

POETRY PUBLISHED DURING

1920-1921

Anonymous. A Romantic Poet: Leygues: The "A Delight-
ful Minister of France." Current Opinion, December,
1920.

American Poets (L. Untenneyer's "A Miscellany of
American Poetry"). New York Times Book Review,
December 5, 1920.

Baudelaire as a Poet in Search of Unattainable Beauty.
Current Opinion, May.

Dante as the Poet of the Supernatural. Current Opinion,
April.

Prom Lancelot to Steeplecbasing (E. A. Robinson, John
Masefield). The Outlook, January 12.

Goethe Pointing the Way to a New Germany. Current
Opinion, June.

Marjorie and Hilda, Child Poets of Two Centuries. New
York Times Book Review, January 30.

Poe Letters and Manuscripts Found in a Pillow-Case.
Current Opinion, June.

Tagore "Wants a Western Music Master for India. Cur-
rent Opinion, February.

The Collected Poems of Walter de la Mare. The Outlook,
July 18.

Two Victorians at Close Range (Oscar Wilde, W. B.
Yeats). New York Times Book Review, May 29.

Vachel Lindsay, ABC Artist. New York Times Book
Review, July 17.

Walt Whitman as an Old-Fashioned Conservative. Cur-
rent Opinion, March.
Abbott, Lyman. John G. Whittier, Mystic. The Outlook,

January 19, 1921.
Acheson, Arthur. Trailing the Dark Lady of the Sonnets.

New York Times Book Review, March 20.
Adams, Elmer C. Vivid Word-Painting in Amy Lowell's
"Legends." The Detroit Sunday News, July 24.

256

Aiken, Conrad. A Poet of the Actual. The Freeman, April

6.

Colourism in Poetry. The Freeman, July 6.
The Scientific Critic (T. S. Eliot's 'The Sacred Wood").

The Freeman, March 2.

The Short Story as Poetry. The Freeman, May 11.
Aldington, Richard. Flint and Rodker. Poetry, A Maga-
zine of Verse, October, 1920.
The Art of Poetry. The Dial, August, 1920.
The Disciples of Gertrude Stein. Poetry, A Magazine of

Verse* October, 1920.
The Poet and Modern Life. Poetry, A Magazine of

Verse, May.
The Poetry of the Sitwells. Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,

December, 1920.
Allen, M. A., Hugh Anthony. Thomas Walsh: His Spanish

Fantasies. The Catholic World, May.
Anderson, Maxwell. An Open Letter to Writers of Verse.

The Measure, April, 1921.
Conrad Aiken and the Minor Mode. The Measure, May,

1921.

Looking Back at Synge. The Measure, June, 1921.
Thunder in the Index. The Measure, March, 1921.
Armstrong, Martin. The Poetry of George Meredith. The

North American Review, March.
Atkinson, J. Brooks. Walt Whitman's Democracy. The

Freeman, April 13.

Austin, Mary. Songs of the American Indian. Harper's
Magazine, June.

( Bazalgette, Leon. Comrades at the Crossroads (French

Poetry of Today). The Freeman, July 27.
Ben6t, William Rose. A Genuine Artist (Lola Ridge).
The Literary Review, 2V. T. Evening Post, January 22.
A Plethora of Poets, The Bookman, February.
An Irish Melodist The Literary Review, The N. Y.

Evening Post, May 21.
Gordon Bottomley's Art. The Literary Review, The N. Y.

Evening Post, February 19.
John Keats: 1821-1921. The Literary Review, N. Y.

Evening Post, February 26.

Birch-Bartlett, Helen. Koral Grisaille (W, C. Williams's
"Kora in Hell: Improvisations"). Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, March.
Blum, W. C. An American Letter (On Contemporary

Poets). The Dial, May.

Bodenheim, Maxwell. Tendencies in Modern Poetry and
Prose. The North American Review, ApriL

257

Bowen, Stirling. Conrad Aiken's "Punch" Analytic Study

of Man (Punch: The Immortal Liar). The Detroit

Sunday News, May 22.
David Morton's Poems Sonorous and Serene. The Detroit

Sunday News, April 24.

Edgar Lee Masters' Blank Verse Novel (Domesday-
Book). The Detroit Sunday News, May 22.
Rabindranath Tagore, Restful Philosopher. The Detroit

Sunday News, June 19.
Braithwaite, William Stanley. A Call to the National

Conscience: William Eliery Leonard. Boston Tran-
script, December 18, 1920.
A Miscellany of American Poetry. Boston Transcript,

October 2, 1920.
A National Epic of America's Soul: Edgar Lee Masters.

Boston Transcript, December 4, 1920.
A Poet from The Midlands: John G. Neihardt. Boston

Transcript.
A Poet-Lawyer Comes from Virginia: Charles Wells

Russell. Boston Transcript, June 8.
A Rising Young English Poet: Charlotte Mew. Boston

Transcript, May 18.
A Roving Poet of Unchartered Ways: Harry Kemp.

Boston Transcript, September 1, 1920.
A Youthful Poet of Rich Experience: Stewart MitchelL

Boston Transcript, April 23.
Aurelia and Other Poems: Robert Nichols. Boston

Transcript.

John Freeman. Boston Transcript, May 4f.
John Myers O'Hara's Latest Collection of Verse, Boston

Transcript, May 11.
Little Drops of Spiritual Acid: Gamaliel Bradford.

Boston Transcript.
Lutanists of February: Dolf Wyllarde, Amory Hare,

Dorian Hope and Mrs. Slosson. Boston Transcript.
Lutanists of March: Hugh Money-Coutts, Ameen Rihani

and Laura Blackburn. Boston Transcript.
Lutanists of Midsummer: Lord Gorell and Gerald Crow.

Boston Transcript.
Poets of the Present Hour: Studies of Contemporary

Poets. By Mary C. Sturgeon. Boston Transcript,

October 13, 1920.
Poverty Was this Poet's Portion: John Clare. Boston

Transcript, May 21.
Professor Bliss Perry Studies Poetry. Boston Transcript.

October 30, 1920.
Sara Teasdale, the Poet of Beauty, Boston Transcript*

September 25, 1920.

258

Spring in New Hampshire: Claude McKay. Boston

Transcript, May 25.
The Angry Voice of a Poetic Reb,el: Carl Sandburg.

Boston Transcript, October 16, 1920.
The Growth of an American Poet: Viola C. White.

Boston Transcript, May 7.
The Idea of Coventry Patmore. Boston Transcript, June

The Life and Letters of Toru DutL Boston Transcript,

June 15.
The Life and Work of Father Tabb. Boston Transcript,

June 29.

The Little Wings: Vivienne DayrelL Boston Transcript.
The Lutamsts of November. Boston Transcript, Novem-
ber 3, 1920.
The Poetic Advance of David Morton. Boston Tran-

sciipt, April 27.
The Poetic Goal of Leonora Speyer. Boston Transcript,

March 26.
The Poetry of James Oppenheim. Boston Transcript,

May 28
The Story of Madison Cawein. Boston Transcript, July

30.
The Tempest of Paul Verlaine. Boston Transcript, July

20.
The Vagaries of a Poet: Louis Untermeyer. Boston

Transcript.
The Verse of Kendall Banning. Boston Transcript, June

22.
William Rose Benet's Poetic Flights. Boston Transcript,

October 23, 1920.
Bre"gy, Litt D t Katherine. Louise Imogen Guiney. The

Catholic World, January.

Brooke, Tudor. The Furness Shakespeare. The Tale Re-
view, April.
Brown, Alice. An American Poet: Louise Imogen Guiney.

The North American Review, April.

C., C. S. Modern British Poetry (Ed, by Louis Unter-
meyer). New Republic, September 8, 1920.

C., M. Georgians and Post-Georgians (Wheels 1919, Fourth
Cycle, Ed. by Edith Sitswell). The New Republic,
September 15, 3920.

Canby, Henry S,eideL A Book of Judgment: "Domesday
Book," By Edgar Lee Masters. The Literary Review,
The N. 7. Evening Post, December 18, 1920.

Ca&sidy, James F. St. Columkille, Patriot and Poet The
Catholic World, April

259

Catd, Jean. A Paris Letter* Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,

September, 1920.
Carnevali, EmanueL Crucible (Lola Ridge's "Sun-up").

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, March.
Nectar and Syrup (W. de la Mare's "Collected Poems").

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, April,
Our Great Carl Sandburg. Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,

February.
The Democracy of Genius. Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,

January.

Three Poets of Three Nations (Cammaerts, Kostes
Palamas, von Heidenstam). Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, October, 1920.

Caroll, Latrobe. Willa Sibert Cather. The Bookman, May.
Chamberlin, Joseph Edgar. Twenty Years of the Omar

Khayyam Club, The Boston Transcript, April 2.
Chapin, Henry. A Pastoral Poet (Edmund Blunden).
The Literary Review, N. Y. Evening Post, January 15.
Clark, Thomas Curtis. More Tokens of Chicago's Literary

Primacy. The Christian Century, January 27.
Chew, Samuel C. Keats After a Hundred Years. The

New Republic, March 9.
Clarke, W. E. Robert Louis Stevenson in Samoa. The

Tale Review, January.
Click, L. L. Meredith's Comic Muse. The Texas Review,

October, 1920.
Cline, Leonard Lanson. Essay on "Wine-Loving Poets of

Old Persia. The Detroit Sunday News, March 13.
Neither Aspires To Be White House Laureate (W. E.
Leonard's **The Lynching Bee"). The Detroit Sunday
News, January 16.

Coblentz, Stanton A. The Poetical War. The Texas Re-
view, April.

Code, Grant H. South American Poetry. Poetry, A Maga-
zine of Verse, August, 1920.
Colum, Padraic. Francis Carlin's The Cairn of Stars. The

Measure, July, 1921.
Persian Poetry (Early Persian Poetry: by A. V. Williams

Jackson). The New Republic, March 16.
Poetry and Publicity. The Measure, May, 1921.
The Poetry of Conrad Aiken. The Freeman, April 13.
Thr.ee Young Poets. The Measure, April, 1921.
Cournos, John. New Russian Poetry. The Freeman, May

18.
Cowley, Malcolm. The Tools of Poetry (R. Hillyer). The

Literary Review, N. Y. Evening Post, January 29.
These Things Are Banal (John Gould Fletcher, Conrad
Aiken). The Dial, June.

260

Crawford, Nelson Antrim. A Prize-Winning Poem (Clem-
ent Wood's "Jehovah"). Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
December, 1920.

New War Poets. Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, Septem-
ber, 1920.

Teacher-Poets. Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, April.
Craven, Thomas Jewell. Poetry and Professors (B. Perry,
J. Erskine). The Dial, March.

Dell, Floyd. Old Love and New Poetry or Vice Versa. The

Bookman, March.
Deutsch, Babette. Orchestral Poetry (Conrad Aiken).

The Dial, March.
Oriental Lyrics. The Literary Review, The N. Y. Evening

Post, March 19.
Poets and Prefaces (D. H. Lawrence, F. S. Flint, Louis

Untermeyer, Arthur Symons). The Dial, January
Dounce, Harry Esty. "In American" Poems by J. V. A

Weaver. The Literary Review, N. Y. Evening Post,

February 26.
Downing, Margaret B. The Lyric-Politco. The Catholic

World, August, 1920.
Drinkwater, John. An Unknown Poet. The Yale Review,

January.

Dwight, S. J., Walter. Children's Poetry. America, De-
cember 25, 1920.

Edgett, Edwin Francis. In Sussex with Rudyard Kipling.

Boston Transcript, May 7.
The John Keats Memorial Volume. Boston Transcript,

May 14.
Egan, Maurice Francis. When Whitman Was an Editor.

New York Times Book Review, January 2.
Eliot, T. S. The Possibility of a Poetic Drama. The Dial,

November, 1920.
Ervine, St. John. Literary Taste in America. The New

Republic, October 6, 1920.

Finger, Charles J. What Is the Shakespeare Problem?
Alt's Well, April.

Firkins, O. W. What Happened to Hamlet? A New Phase
of an Old View. The North American Review, Septem-
ber, 1920.

Fletcher, John Gould. A French View of Poe. The Yale

Review, January.

A Question of Attitude (Walter de la Mare). The Free-
man, January 26.

261

De La Mare's Collected Poems. The Literary Review

N. T. Evening Post, January 15.
John Masefield: A Study. The North American Reoien

September, 1920.
Mr. Masefield's Way ("Right Royal"). The Fretma*

March 9.

Respectable Poetry. The Freeman, July 20.
Scattered Gleams (Helen Dircks' "Passenger"). Th

Freeman, March 16.
That Neighborly Feeling (W. W. Gibson's "Neighbors")

The Freeman, February 23.
The Great War Poet (Wilfrid Owen). The Freeman

June 1.

The Plays of Stephen Phillips. The Freeman, July 13.
The Work of J. C. Squire. The Freeman, December ]

1920.

Walt Whitman's Beginnings. The Freeman, May 4.
Foerster, Norman. Whitman and the Cult of Confusion

The North American Review, June.
Freer, Agnes Lee. French Poets in English. Poetry, s

Magazine of Terse, May.
Fujiita, Jun. Waley on the "Uta" (Japanese Poetry)

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, August, 1920.

Gerould, Gordon HalL "Old English Ballads. 1553-16&

Chiefly from Manuscripts." The Literary Review, N

Y. Evening Post, January 8.
Gilchrist, Helen Ives. An Authentic Poet (T. P. Cameroi

Wilson). The Literary Review, N. Y. Evening Pott

February 26.
Goldberg, Isaac. An Unconventional Tribute to Dante

The Boston Transcript. A Chilean Poet (M. Magal-

lanes Moure).
Gorman, Herbert S. Enter the Junkman (R. Le Gallienne'i

"The Junkman, and Other Poems"). N. Y. Times Bool

Review, October 10, 1920.
Mr. Huxley's "Leda." New York Times Book Review

September 19, 1920.
Destiny's Hooded Face. (Avon's Harvest By Edwin

Arlington Robinson). The Literary Review, TV. Y,

Evening Post, April 2.
Guiney, Louise Imogen. My Literary Career. The Literary

Review, N. Y. Evening Pott, January 15.

Hack, R. K. Horatian Satire. The Freeman, February 9.
Hall, Amanda Benjamin. Leonora Speyer's Art The
Literary Review, The N. Y. Evening Post, May 21.

262

Hall, Carolyn. David Morton's "Ships in Harbor." The

Measure, July, 1921.

From Another Point of View. The Measure, June, 1921.
Hammond, Josephine. Amy Lowell and the Pretorian Co-
horts. The Personalist, October, 1920
Henderson, Alice Corbin. Mr. Lomax's Second Anthology
(Songs of the Cattle Trail and Cow Camp). Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, August, 1920.

"Tall Timber and a Loon" (Lew Sarett's "Many, Many
Moons"). Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, December,
1920.
The Folk Poetry of These States. Poetry, A Magazine of

Verse, August, 1920.
The Old Adam (L. Untermeyer*s "The New Adam").

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, January.
Two English Poets (J. C. Squine, Edward Shanks).

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, September, 1920.
Who Writes Folk-Songs? (L. Pound's "Poetic Origins
and The Ballad"). Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, July.
Herold, A. Ferdinand. The Centenary of Baudelaire, The

Freeman, July 27.
Hill, Frank Ernest. "Edna St. Vincent Mfflay." The

Measure, March, 1921.

The Age of Candor, The Measure, June, 1921.
Holloway, Emory. Walt Whitman's Love Affairs. The

Dial, November, 1920.

Howard, Sidney. Flowers that Bloom in the Spring (A
Bouquet of Younger Writers). The Bookman, April.

Jordan, Charlotte Brewster. The Keats Centenary. JZV, Y.
Times Book Review, February 20.

Kelsey, C. K. Nobel Prize for 1920 Goes to Carl Spitteler.

The Detroit Sunday News, January 2.
Kent. O. S. C., W H. A Living Irish Literature. The

Catholic World, June.
Krutch, Joseph Wood. A Living Corpse (M. van Doren's

"The Poetry of John Dryden"). The Literary Review,

N. Y. Evening Post, January 8.

Lamb, D. Kenneth. Two Anthologies of French Verse.
The Detroit Sunday News, June 27.

Le Gallienne, Richard. John Keats, "Regular Fellow."

New York Times Book Review, July 31.
Poets Who Live Near the Rose (Kendall Banning, Ed-
mund Blunden, James Oppenheim, Marie Tudor).
IV. Y. Times Book Review, March 20.

263

Some Common Sense for Poets. The Writer's Monthly,

January.
Lee, H. (X Foundations of Greek Tragedy. The Freeman,

April 13.
Leo, Brother. The Centenary of John Keats. The Catholic

World, January.
Lewisohn, Ludwig. Goethe and Ourselves (P. Hume

Brown's "Life of Goethe"). The Nation, June 29.
The Progress of Poetry: France. The Nation, February

9.

The Progress of Poetry: Germany. The Nation, April 13.
Lief, Alfred. How to Write a Triolet. The Bookman, June.
Lindsay, VacheL Aramel Boone and the Young American

Poets of Russian Blood. The Dial, May,
Littell, Phillip. Rossetti (in Books and Things). The

New Republic, June 15.
Littlefield, Walter. An American Tribute in this Year's

Dante Centenary. N. Y. Times Book Review, Febru-
ary 13.
Lohman, J. P. Songs from Prison Cells. N. Y. Times Book

Review, September 12, 1920.
Love, Ray. The Song Po,em Fake. The Writer's Monthly,

August^ 1920.
Lovecraft, Howard P. Winifred Virginia Jackson: A

"Different" Poetess. The United Amateur, March.
Lowell, Amy. Louis Untermeyer: Critic, Parodist, Poet

IV. Y. Times Book Review, October 10, 1920.
Poetry and Propaganda (C. Sandburg's "Smoke and

Steel"). N. Y. Times Book Review, October 29, 1920.
The Poems of the Month Selected by. The Bookman,

July.
Lynch, J. Bernard. The Girl Who Ran Away (Winifred

Virginia Jackson). The National Magazine, September,

1920.

M. D. Sunrise and Red Earth (Lola Ridge's "Sun up,"
Alice Corbin's "Red Earth: Poems of New Mexico").
The Nation, February 9.

Mann, Dorothea L. The Fifteenth of Mr. Braithwaite's
Annual Anthologies. Boston Transcript, December 18,
1920.
The Growth of a Poet (C. R. Robinson). The Boston

Transcript.

Percy Mackaye's Poem of Cape Ann. The Boston Trans-
cript, August 10.

McAlmon, Robert. Concerning "Kora in Hell." Poetry,
A Magazine of Verse, April.

McCourlie, William B. The Rhythmic Structure of Verse.
The Writer's Monthly, August, November, 1920, Febru-
ary, June.

Marks, Jeannette. Disaster and Poetry: A Study of James
Thomson (B. V.). The North American Review, July,
1920.
Mason, Lawrence. John Masefield ("Enslaved"). The New

Republic, August 18, 1920.
Matthews, Brander. Dryden a Belated Elizabethan. N. Y.

Times Book Review, February 27.
Poe in a Cloud of Commentators. IV. F. Times Book

Review, March 13.

Maxwell, John M. Sir George Somers, None Other than the
"Faire Friend" of the Procreation Sonnets of William
Shakespeare. All's Well, May.

Who Juggled the Hamlet Letters and Why? A Challenge

to the World of Shakespearana in General and a

Pleasant Inquiry Addressed to the House of Cecil,

England, in Particular. All's Well, June.

Maynard, Theodore. Ballad of the Cross. The Literary

Review, The N. Y. Evening Post, May 14.
Lascelles Abercrombie, The Qatholic World, April.
Ralph Hodgson. The Catholic World, September, 1920.
Milne, J. R. "Spirit" Voice Dictates Poetry. Boston Sun-
day Post, January 30.
Mitchell, Stewart. Edwin Arlington Robinson (The Three

Taverns). The Dial, May.
"Spirits from the Vasty Deep" (Wordsworth, M. Boden-

heim). The Dial, December, 1920.

Monroe, Harriet. A Census Spiritual (E. L. Masters'
"Domesday Book"). Poetry , A Magazine of Verse,
July.

A Laurelled Poem (Neihardfs "The Song of Three
Friends"). Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, November,
1920.
A Score of First Books. Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,,

February*
A Word About Keats. Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,

June.

Camouflage (Masefield's "Reynard the Fox," and ."En-
slaved"). Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, October, 1920.
Drinkwater on Abercrombie. Poetry, A Magazine of

Verse, April.
Frugality and Depreciation. Poetry, A Magazine of

Verse, October, 1920.

Hew in Cass Street. Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, July.
In Texas and New Mexico. Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
September, 1920.

265

Notes and Queries from Mr. Lindsay. Poetry, A Maga-
zine of Verse, February.

"Others" Again. Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, Decem-
ber, 1920.

Recent Anthologies. Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, May.
Southern Shrines. Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, May.
The Christmas Clock Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,

December, 1920,
- The Death of "B. L. T." Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,

May.
The P. S. A. Prizes and Ours. Poetry, A Magazine of

Verse, November, 1920.
Their Wide Range. Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,

March.
Two Poets Who Have Died. Poetry, A Magazine of

Verse, January.
What Are They Doing 9 Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,

January.
Moore, Marianne. A Metropolitan Hermit (Poems, Stewart

Mitchell). The Dial, June.
Jacapone Da Todi. The Dial, January.
The Sacred Word (By T. S. Elliot). The Dial, March.
Morley, Christopher. The Rudeness of Poets. The Literary

Review, N. Y. Evening Post, January 15.
Mott, Frank Luther. Neihardt and His Epic Cycle. The

Grinnell Review, November, 1920.
Moynihan, F. The Poet of the Supernatural: Dante. The

Catholic World, February.
Murray, Gilbert An Essay in the Theory of Poetry. The

Yale Review, April.

Murry, John Middleton. The Sacred Wood (T. S. Eliot).
The New Republic, April 13, 1921.

Neilson, William Allan "King John: A New Variorum

Edition of Shakespeare" (H. H. Furness). The Literary

Review, N. Y. Evening Post.
Nichols, Beverley. The Poets of Oxford. The Outlook,

April 13.
NichoU, Louise Townsend. Leonora Speyer's "A Canopic

Jar." The Measure, July, 1921.
Robinson's New Book. The Measure, June, 1921.
Norris, Orlando O. Removes Ballad from Its Romantic

Setting. The Detroit Sunday News, May 8.

Obata, Shigeyoshi. Thirty Thousand Poets from Japan, The

Bookman, March.
O'Conor, Norreys Jephson. The Latest Poetry of Amy

Lowell. Boston Transcript, May 21.

266

Page, Frederick. Coventry Patmore: Points of View. The

Catholic World, June.
Parker, Clara M. The New Poetry and the Conservative

Magazine. The Texas Review, October, 1920.
Parsons, Geoffrey. Not a Parnassian (W. R. BenSt's

"Moons of Grandeur"). The Literary Review, N. Y.

Evening Post, January 8.
Parsons, Kitty. Pleasure and Pain of Modern Poetry. New

Numbers, April 6.
Passes, John Dos. A Catalan Poet (Joan Maragall). The

Freeman, February 2.
Phelps, William Lyon. An Estimate of Maeterlinck. The

North American Review, January.
Bringing Goethe Back (P. Hume Brown's "Life of

Goethe"). lY. F. Times Book Review, July 31.
Edmond Rostand. The Yale Review, April.
Phillips, Brian. Shakespeare Carved from His Mulberry

Tree. Boston Transcript.
Phoutrides, Aristides E. Literature Abroad: Among the

Poets of Athens. The Literary Review, The IV. Y.

Evening Post, May 14.
Piccoli, Raffaello. On the Centenary of Dante. The Free-

man f July 20.
Pierce, Frederick E, A Century of English Literature

(Oliver Elton's "Survey of English Literature, 1780-

1880), The Yale Review, July.
Poundj Ezra. Thames Morasses. Poetry, A Magazine of

Verse, March.
Powys, Llewelyn. The Poetry of Edna St. Vincent Millay.

'The Double-Dealer, June.
Preston, Keith. Pot Shots on Parnassus. The Bookman,

February.

Redman, Ben Ray. Arthur Hugh Clough. JV. Y. Times

Book Review, October 3, 1920.
Reed, Edward Bliss. Anthologists and Poets, The Yale

Review, October, 1920.
Ridge, Lola. "Heavens and Earth" (Stephen V. Ben6t).

The Literary Review, N. Y. Evening Post,
Evelyn Scott ("Precipitations"). Poetry, A Magazine of

Verse, March.

Rimband, Arthur. Illuminations. The Dial, August, 1920.
Rittenhouse, Jessie B. The Charm of Louise Imogen Guiney.

The Bookman, February.
Rolland, Remain, Shakespeare, the Truthteller (Trans, by

Helena Van Brugh de Kay). The Dial, August, 1920.
Rosenfeld, Paul. Carl Sandburg The Bookman, July.

267

Rourke, Constance Mayfield. The Disintegration of a Poet
(Christina Rossetti). The Freeman, July 27.

Sanborn, Alvan. France's New Ambassador to Japan. His
Connection with the N. R. F. (Paul Claudel)* The
Boston Transcript, April 6.

Sandburg, Carl From New Mexico (A. Corbin's "Red
Earth: Poems of New Mexico"). Poetry, A Magazine
of Verse, June.

Scheltema, J. F. Juliet's Tomb. The Texas Review, Octo-
ber, 1920.

Schneider, Isidor. Gregorian Elizabethan (Odin Gregory's
"Caius Gracchus"). Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,
March.

One Poet. Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, April.
"The Cleverest Young Poet in England.'* Poetry, A
Magazine of Verse, January.

Scott, Evelyn. Argentine Drama, Poetry, A "Magazine of
Verse, October, 1920.

Scott, Harold P. Beautiful Poetry, But "What's It All
About? (Stewart Mitchell's "Poems"). The Detroit
Sunday News, June 12.
Bellows* Lyrics Have Simplicity and Humor. The Detroit

Sunday News, June 5.

Vachel Lindsay's Satiric Prophecy in Lyric Prose. The
Detroit Sunday News, March 13.

Shepard, Odell. Lord Dunsany Myth-Maker. Scribner's

Magazine, May.

The Paradox of Thoreau. Scribner's Magazine, Septem-
ber, 1920.

Sherry, Laura. Little Theatre Rhythms. Poetry, A Maga-
zine of Verse, July.

Pastels (H. Long's "Poems"). Poetry, A Magazine of
Verse, May.

Sinclair, May. What Is Poetry? The Literary Review,
IV. 7. Evening Post, January 8.

Smith, Preserved. Early Tudor Poetry (J, M. Berdan).
The Literary Review, N. T. Evening Post.

Starnes, D. T* Repeated Themes and Situations in Shakes-
peare's Comedies. The Texas Review, April.

Snow, RoyalL Marriage with the East (Japanese Poetry).
The New Republic, June 29.

Stork, Charles Wharton. The Robert Burns of Sweden
(Gustaf Froding). The Freeman, January 26.

Strobel, Marion. Through a Mist Darkly (C. Aiken's 'The
House of Dust"). Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, Janu-
ary.

Tagore, Sir Rabindranath. The Poet's Religion. The Cen-
tury, June.

268

Thompson, James Westfall. Shakespeare and Puritanism*

The North American Review, August, 1920.
Tiejens, Eunice. A Singer (Sara Teasdale). Poetry, A

Magazine of Verse, February.
Mr. Aiken's Bow to Punch (C. Aiken's "Punch: The

Immortal Liar"). Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, June.
The Sub-Conscious Cliche". Poetry, A Magazine of Verse,

June.
Thomas, Roger. New Volume of Verse by "Michael

Strange." The DetroU Sunday News, May 8.
Turner, J. E. What is Poetry? The Personalist, January.

Untermeyer, Louis. Hilda and the Unconscious. The Dial,

August, 1920.
The Contemplative Quarry. The New Republic, April

27, 1921.
The Music of the Unconscious (Conrad Aiken's "The

House of Dust"). The New Republic, March 2.
The Poems of the Month Selected by The Bookman,

March.
The Poems of the Month Selected by The Bookman,

April.

Van Doren, Carl. In a Style of Steel (Edwin Arlington
Robinson's "Avon's Harvest"). The Nation, April 20.
Van Doren, Mark. Concerning Poetry. The Nation, Febru-
ary 9.

Effects in Verse. The Nation, January 19.

England's Critical Compass. The Nation, May 4.

Fashions (L. W. Reese's "Spicewood," M. Strange's
"Resurrecting Life." L. Speyer's "A Canopic Jar").
The Nation, May 11.

In Defence of Long Poems. The Measure, April, 1921.

John Keats: 1821-1921. The Nation, February 23.

Poetic Space and Time (John Gould Fletcher's "Breakers
and Granite"). The Nation, April 13.

Sapphics (Sara Teasdale's "Flame and Shadow," and
Evelyn Scott's "Precipitations"). The Nation, January
5.

The Progress of Poetry: England. The Nation, June 22.

Village Verse. The Nation, March 30.

War and Peace (Wilfrid Owen's "Poems," Edmund
Blunden's "The Waggoner"). The Nation, May 25.

Voices of the Living Poets. Current Opinion, December,
1920, January, February, March, April, May, June,

July.

Wagstaff, Blanche Shoemaker. "Star-Points" by Mrs.
Waldo Richards. The Literary Review, The N. 7.
Post, Mar 21.

Waterhouse, F. A. The Literary Fortunes of Kipling. The

Yale Review, July.
Weaver, J. Y. A. Elfin and Child (Kreymborg's "Blood

of Things," Rola Ridge's "Sun-Up")- The Bookman,

May.
Weeks, Al. Little Girl Is a True Poet (Hilda Conkling).

The Detroit Sunday News, September 5.
White, Lee A. Walter de la Mare Fanciful Masterpiece.

The Detroit Sunday News, January 9.
White, Michael. The Poetry of Winifred Virginia Jackson.

The Hub Club Quill, June.
Wilbur, Harriette. The Poetry of the PetrdL The Catholic

World, February.
The Quaking Aspen Tree. The Catholic World, August,

1920.
Wilkinson, Marguerite. Imagist Pictures of America ( John

Gould Fletcher's "Breakers and Granite"). IV. 7. Tim**

Book Review, March 13.
4< Last of the White Magicians" (Walter de la Mare).

IV. Y. Times Book Review, December 19, 1920.
Mirrors of the Renaissance (Ben^t's "Moons of Gran-
deur"). The Bookman, April.
Of Poets Great in Their Day. IV. 7. Times Book Review,

August 3, 1920.
The Poems of the Month Selected by The Bookman,

May.
The Poems of the Month Selected by The Bookman,

June.
Williams, Blanche Cotton. Maxwell Struthers Burt. The

Bookman, March.
Williams, Oscar. The Silver Stallions. Poetry, A Magazine

of Verse, July.
Williams, Stanley T. Rossetiti's Damozels: Blessed and

Otherwise. The Texas Review, April.
Wilson, Arthur. Sandburg: A Psychiatric Curiosity. The

Dial, January.
Wood, Clement. A Woman's Burden (Leonora Speyer's

"A Canopic Jar"). The Bookman, July.
The Ready Red Lyre. The Literary Review, The N. 7.

Evening Post, May 14.
The Village Miltons. The Literary Review, IV. 7. Evening

Post, February 19.
Wright, Herbert F. Martial: The Modern Epigrammatist.

The Catholic World, June.
Wyatt, Edith Franklin. Conversational Poetry. The 7ale

Review, October, 1920.

Yewdale, Merton S. Edgar Allen Poe, Pathologically.
The North American Review, November, 1920.

270

VOLUMES OF POEMS PUBLISHED
DURING 1920-1921

A Hundred Voices and Other Poems from the Second Part

of Life Immovable. By Kostes Palamas. Translated

with an Introduction and Notes by Aristides E. Phou-

trides. Harvard University Press.
A Miscellany of American Poetry. Harcourt, Brace and

Howe.
A Physician' 8 Anthology of English and American Poetry.

Selected and Arranged by Casey A. Wood and Fielding

H. Garrison. Oxford University Press.
Agamemnon. After the Greek of JBschylus. By Locke Ellis.

Harcourt, Brace and Howe.
Aiken, Conrad. Punch: The Immortal Liar. Documents

in His History. Alfred A. Knopf.
The House of Dust. The Four Seas Co.
Aldington, Richard. Medallions in Clay. Alfred A. Knopf.
American and British Verse. From The Yale Review, with

a Foreword by John Gould Fletcher. Yale University

Press.
Andrews, Marietta Minnigrode. Out of the Dust. E. P.

Button and Co.
Atwood, "William Franklin. The Plymouth Pilgrims, and

Two Other Short Poems. Privately Printed.

Bangs, John Kendrick. The Cherry Way. A Bit of Verse
for Everday. Harper and Bros.

Banks, Jr., Theodore H. Wild Geese. Yale University
Press.

Barney, Natalie Clifford. Poems and Poemes* George H.
Doran Co.

Beckett, Grace. (Editor). Songs of Joy. Oxford Univer-
sity Press.

Bellamann, Henry. A Music Teacher's Note Book. The
New York Poetry Book Shop.

Ben6t, Stephen Vincent Heavens and Earth. Henry Holt
and Co.

BenSt, William Rose. Moons of Grandeur. George H.
Doran Co.

Betts, Craven Langstroth. The Two Captains. At Long-
wood, at Trafalgar. New York: Alfred Allen Watts
Co.

Blok, Alexander. The Twelve. Translated from the Russian
by Babette Deutsch. B. W. Huebsch.

Blunden, Edmund. The Waggoner. Alfred A. Knopf.

Bodenheim, Maxwell. Advice. Alfred A. Knopf.

Bottomtey, Gordon. Ring Lear's Wife; The Crier by Night;
The Riding to Lithend; Midsummer Eve; Laodice and
Danae. Plays. Small, Maynard and Co.

Boyle, Darl MacLeod. Where Lilith Dances. Yale Univer-
sity Press.

Boyle, Mary E. Drum-Na-Keil The Ridge of the Burial
Place. London: Eneas MacKay.

Bradford, Gamaliel. A Prophet of Joy. Houghton Mifflin

Co.
Shadow Verse. Yale University Press.

Braithwaite, William Stanley. Anthology of Magazine
Verse, and Yearbook of American Poetry. Small,
Maynard and Co.

Bridges, Elizabeth. Sonnets from Hafez, and Other Verses.
Oxford University Press.

Bridges, Robert. October and Other Poems. With Occa-
sional Verses on the War. Alfred A. Knopf

Brown, Abbie FarwelL Heart of New England. Houghton
Mifflin Co.

Buddies. A Sequel to Yanks: A Book of Verse. Origi-
nally Published in The Stars and Stripes. Washington:
Eastern Supply Co.

Burke, Thomas. The Song Book of Quong Lee of Lime-
house. Henry Holt and Co.

Butler, William Mill. Democracy, and Other Poems.
Richard G. Badger.

Call, F. O. Acanthus and Wild Grape. Toronto: McClal-
land and Stewart.

Carpenter, Rhys. The Plainsman, and Other Poems, Ox-
ford University Press.

Caxton, Herbert Hugh. Percinette. With an Introduction
by Frederic J. FarneU. Providence, R. I: The Pre-
mier Publishing Co., Inc.

Chandler, Olive. The Imp of Mischief, and Other Verses
for Children. E. P. Button and Co.

Chapman, Arthur, Cactus Centre. Houghton Mifflin Co*

Chase, Henrietta M. Poems. Boston: Nathan Sawyer and
Son, Inc.

272

Chips of Jade. Being Chinese Proverbs with more Folk-
Sayings from Hindustan and Other Oriental Countries.
Rhymed in English by Arthur Guiterman. E. P. Button
and Co.

Chubb, Thomas Caldecot. The White God and Other Poems.
Yale University Press.

Claudel, Paul. The City. A Play. Translated by John
Strong Newberry. Yale University Press.

Cobden-Sanderson, T. J. Wordsworth. An Anthology.
Alfred A. Knopf.

Crabb, William Darwin. Poems of the Golden West. San
Francisco: Harr Wagner Publishing Co,

Cross, Zora. The Lilt of Life. Sydney, Australia: Angus
and Robertson, Ltd.

Curran, Edwin. New Poems. The Four Seas Co.

Curran, Edward. The Second Poems. Zanesville, Ohio:
Published by the Author.

Dayrell, Vivienne (Vivienne Day rell-Br owning). The Little
Wings. With an Introduction by G. K. Chesterton.
Basil Blackwell.

de la Mare, Walter. Collected Poems. 1901-1918. Two
Volumes. Henry Holt and Co.

de Witt, S. A. Riding the Storm. New York: The Acad-
emy Press.

Dircks, Helen. Passenger. With an Introduction by Frank
Swinnerton. George H. Doran Co.

Dodge, Philip Henry. The Voice of Kegon Fall, and Other
Words in Verse and Song. Tokyo: Maruzen Co., Ltd.

"Dombey." The Song of Life and Other Poems. The Strat-
ford Co.

Doyle, E. A. War Pieces. Winchester, Ohio: The School
Journal.

Drayton, Michael. Nimphida, The Court of Fayrie. Basil
Blackwell.

Dresbach, Glenn Ward. Morning f Noon and Night. The
Four Seas Co.

du Bois, George. Silvania, and Other Poems. The Strat-
ford Co.

English Madrigal Verse. 1588-1632. Edited from the Origi-
nal Songbooks by E. H. Fellowes, Oxford University
Press.

Eno, Henry Lane. Indian Summer. Duffield and Co.

Ererett, Leolyn Louise. The Hills of Arcetri. John Lane
Co.

Planner, Hildegarde. This Morning. Frank Shay.
273

Fleming, Sara Lee Brown. Clouds and Sunshin*. The

Cornhill Co.
Fletcher, John Gould. Breakers and Granite. The Mac-

miQan Co.
Flexner, Hortense. Clouds and Cobblestones. Houghton

Mifflin Co.
Forbes, Helen Emily. The Saga of the Seventh Division.

John Lane Co.
France, Anatole. The Bride of Corinth, and Other Poems

and Plays. Translated by "Wilfrid Jackson and Emilie

Jackson. John Lane Co.
Fraiser, Scottie McKenzie. Fagots of Fancy. Wheeling,

W. Va : Progressive Publishers.
Freeman, John. Poems Old and New. Harcourt, Brace and

Howe.

Frothingham, Robert (Editor). Songs of Dogs. Hough-
ton Mifflin Co.

Songs of Horses. An Anthology. Houghton Mifflin Co.
Fyleman, Rose. Fairies and Chimneys. George H. Doran

Co.

Garland, Marie Tudor. The Marriage Feast. G. P. Put-
nam's Sons.
Garrison, Theodosia, As the Larks Rise. G, P. Putnam's

Sons.
Gates, Ellen M. Huntington. The Marble House, and Other

Poems. G. P. Putnam's Sons.
Gibran, Kahlil. The Forerunner. His Parables and Poems.

Alfred A. Knopf.

Gibson, Wilfred Wilson Neighbors. The Macmillan Co.
Gibbs, A. Hamilton. Blue Bottles. B. W. Huebsch,
Gilmore, Mary. The Passionate Heart. Sydney, Australia:

Angus and Robertson, Ltd.
Ginsberg, Louis. The Attic of the Past, and Other Lyrics.

Small, Maynard and Co.
Glaenzer, Richard Butler, Literary Snapshots. Impressions

of Contemporary Authors. Brentano's.
Goldring, Douglas. Streets and Other Verses. Thomas

Seltzer.

Goodhue, E. S. On the Reserve, and Other Poems. Molokai,

Hawaii: You Bet Publishing Co
Under the Silver Moon. Molokai, Hawaii: You Bet

Publishing Co.
Grautham, A. E. The Wisdom of Akhnaton. John Lane

Co.
Gregory, Odin. Caius Gracchus. A Tragedy. With an

Introduction by Theodore Dreiser. Boni and Liveright.

271-

Hare, Amory. Tossed Coins. John Lane Co.

Hardin, Charlotte. From a Flat House-Top. The Four
Seas Co.

Hewitt, Arthur Wentworth. Harp of the North. Boston:
C. H. Simonds Co.

Hewlett, Maurice. Flowers in the Grass. (Wiltshire Plain-
song). E. P. Dutton and Co.

Hilly er, Robert. Alchemy. A Symphonic Poem. With
Decorations by Beatrice Stevens. Brentano's.

Hitch, Alfred. Poems and Essays. Stockton, CaL: Pub-
lished by the Author.

Hobart, George V. Idle Moments in Florida. George H.
Doran Co.

Holmes, Edmond. The Creed of My Heart, and Other
Poems. E. P. Dutton and Co.

Hope, Dorian. Pearls and Pomegranates. G. P. Putnam's
Sons.

Hult, Gottfried. Outbound. The Stratford Co.

Huxley, Aldus. Leda. George H. Doran Co.

learian Flights. Translations of Some of the Odes of
Horace. By Francis Outts and Walter Herries Pol-
lock. John Lane Co.

Inman, Arthur Crew. Red Autumn. E. P. Dutton and
Co.

Jesse, F. Tennyson. The Happy Bride. George H. Doran

Co.

Johnson, Roy Ivan. The Fourth Watch. The Cornhill Co.
Jones, Herbert. The Blue Ship. John Lane Co.

King, James Jamison. Soul. Printed at the Knickerbocker
Press for the Author.

Kitchin, C. H. B. Winged Victory. Basil BlackwelL

Kueffner, Louise Mallinckrodt. Moods of Manhattan. New-
York: The Modernist Press.

Knibbs, Henry Herbert. Songs of the Trail Houghton
Mifffln Co.

Krilof'a Fables. Translated from the Russian into the
Original Metres. By C. Fillingham Coxwell. E. P.
Dutton and Co.

Labaree, Mary Fleming. Persian Pictures. Fleming H.

Revell Co.
Lankin, Nina B. The Gifts We Bring. A Christmas

Pageant for Boys and Girls and for Grown-Ups. T. S.

Denison and Co.

275

Le Gallienne, Richard. The Junk-Man, and Other Potm*.

Doubleday, Page and Co.
Leavenworth, Annie Grim. Wild Geese and Other Potn*,

James T. White and Co.
Leonard, Mary Hall. My Lady of the Searchlight. The

Four Seas Co.
Leonard, William Ellery. The Lynching Bee, and Other

Poems. B. W. Huesbsch.

Leslie, Noel. The Cult of Content. The Four Seas Co.
Lee, Harry. High Company. Sketches of Courage and

Comradeship. Frederick A. Stokes Co.
Long, Haniel. Poems. Moffat, Yard and Co.
Long, Lindley Grant. Farmer Hiram on the World'* War.

Dayton, Ohio: Christian Publishing Association.
Low, Benjamin R. C. Broken Music, E. P. Button and

Co.
Lowell, Amy. Legends. Houghton Mifflin Co.

Macauley, Rose. Three Days. E. P. Dutton and Co.

Macdonald, Raymond. Poems of the English Race. Charles
Scribner's Sons.

MacKaye, Percy. The Pilgrim and the Book. American
Bible Society.

Macnicol, Nicol. Psalms of Maratha Saints. One Hundred
and Eight Hymns Translated from the Marathi. Oxford
University Press.

Marquis, Don. The Old Soak, and Hail and FairwelL
Doubleday, Page and Co.

Masefield, John. Reynard the Fox. Illustrated by Carton
Moorepark. The Macmillan Co.

Maynard, Theodore. The Last Knight, and Other Poems.

Frederick A. Stokes Co.

(Editor). A Tankard of Ale. An Anthology of Drink-
ing Songs. Robert N. McBride and Co.

McCleary, Cornelia Walter. The Celestial Circus. The
CornMU Co.

McCormick, Virginia Taylor Star-Dust and Gardens. Nor-
wood: The Plimpton Press.

Merivale, Philps. The Wind Over the Water. The Four
Seas Co.

Mertins, Gustave Frederick. The Twilight Soul. Mont-
gomery, Ala.: The Paragon Press.

Merrick, George E. Songs of the Wind on a Southern
Shore, and Other Poems of Florida. The Four Seas Co,

Mew, Charlotte. Saturday Market. The Macmillan Co.

Millay, Edna St. Vincent. A Few Figs from Thistle*.
Frank Shay.

Mitchell, Stewart. Poems. Duffield and Co.

276

Modern Czech Poetry. Selected Texts with Translations and
an Introduction by P. Selver. E. P. Dutton and Co.

Montague, James J. More Truth Than Poetry. With a
Preface by Irvm S. Cobb. George H. Doran Co.

Morgan, Edward. Rock and Rye. Privately Printed.

Morley, Christopher. Hide and Seek. George H. Doran' Co.

Morse, William Inglis. The Lady Latour. Toronto: The
Ryerson Press.

Morton, David. Ships in Harbor. G. P. Putnam's Sons.

Murray, Eleanor Vinton. The Inferno of Dante. Boston:
Privately Printed.

Myers, Frederic W. H. Collected Poems with Autobio-
graphical and Critical Fragments. Edited by his wife,
Eveleen Myers. The Macmillan Co.

Neihardt, John G. Two Mothers. The Macmillan Co.
Nevinson, Henry W. Lines of Life Boni and Liveright.
Nichols, Robert. Aurelia, and Other Poems. E. P. Dutton

and Co.

Noguchi, Yone. Japanese Hokkus. The Four Seas Co.
Seen and Unseen, or Monologues of a Homeless Snail.

New York: Orientalia.
Noyes, Alfred. Sherwood, or Robin Hood and the Three

Kings. (Acting Edition). Frederick A. Stokes Co.
The Elfin Artist, and Other Poems. Frederick A. Stokes

Co.
Collected Poems. Volume III. Frederick A. Stokes Co.

Olcott, Frances Jenkins. Story-Telling Ballads. Selected

and Arranged for Story-Telling and Reading Aloud.

Houghton Mifflin Co.
Oppenheim, James. Songs for the New Age (New Edition).

Alfred A. Knopf.

The Mystic Warrior. Alfred A. Knopf.
Oxford Poetry 1917-1919. Basil BlackweU.
Oxford Poetry 1920. Edited by V. M. B., C. H. B. K.,

A. P. BasU BlackweU.

Parfenoff, Stephen S. Inside the Great Conflict. Epoch of

the World's War, Politics and Love. The Stratford Co.
Parish, Emma Kenyon. The Golden Island. James T.

White Co.

Parrott, Retta. Library Windows. Harr Publishing Co.
Phillips, Stephen. Collected Plays. The Macmillan Co.
Poems. By John Clare, Chiefly from Manuscript. G. P.

Putnam's Sons
Powell, Charles (Editor). The Poets of the Nursery. With

an Introduction by John Drinkwater. John Lane Co.

277

Quest, Edgar A. When Day Is Done. The Reilly and Le
Co.

Rackham, Arthur (Illustrator). Some British Balladi

Dodd, Mead and Co.
Reed, William Lord. An American Nobility. The Straf

ford Co.
Reese, Lizette Woodworth. Spicetvood. The Normal

Remington Co.
Rice, Cecil Arthur Spring. Poems. Longsman, Green am

Co
Richardson, James Edward. The Summer-Garden. Phila

delphia: Published by the Author.
Richards, Mrs. Waldo (Editor). Star-Points. Songs o

Joy, Faith, and Promise from the Present-Day Poets

Houghton Miffim Co.

Ridge, Lola. Sun-Up, and Other Poems. B. W. Huebsc*
Rien, E. V. The Tryst, and Other Poems. Oxford Univer

sity Press.

Rihani, Ameen. A Chant of Mystics. James T. White Cc
Rives, Amelie (Princess Troubetzkoy ) . As the Wind Bleu

Frederick A. Stokes Co
Robinson, Charles Mulford. The City Sleeps. The Cornhil

Co.
Robinson, Corinne Roosevelt, The Poems of. Charles Scrib

ner's Sons.
Robinson, Edwin Arlington. Avon's Harvest The Mac

millan Co.

The Three Taverns. The Macmillan Co.
Robinson, Edwin Meade. (Ted Robinson'). Harcotirt

Brace and Howe,

Sackville, Lady Margaret. Selected Poems. E. P. Duttoj

and Co
Sandburg, Carl, Smoke and SteeL Harcourt, Brace an<

Howe.
Sappho. Memoir, Text, Selected Renderings and a Litera

Translation. By Henry Thornton Wharton. Witl

Paraphrases in Verse by Anna Bunner. Brentano's.
Schauffler, Robert Haven The White Comrade, and Othe\

Poems. Houghton Mifflin Co.
Schlesinger, Frederick Schenck. WhittUngs of a Dreamet

James T. White Co.

Scott, Coral Frances. Life's Overtones. The Stratford Co
Scott, Evelyn. Precipitations. Nicholas L. Brown.
Selections from A. Q. Swinburne. Edited by Edmum

Gosse and Thomas James Wise. George H. Dorai

Co

278

Shakespeare's Sonnets. Basil Blackwell.

Shay, Frank. Iron Men and Wooden Ships. Chanties Col-
lected by F. S. Frank Shay.

Slosson, May Preston. From a Quiet Garden, Brentano's.

Smith, C. Fox. Ships and Folks. Elkin Mathews.

Speyer, Leonora. A Canopic Jar. E. P, Dutton and Co.

Sterling, Ada. Mary, Queen of Scots. A Drama in Verse.
Oxford University Press.

Stetson, Augusta E. Poems. G. P. Putnam's Sons.

Stork, Charles Wharton. Contemporary Verse Anthology.
Favorite Poems Selected from the Magazine of Con-
temporary Verse, 1916-1920. E. P. Dutton and Co.

Strange, Michael. Resurrecting Life. Alfred A. Knopf.

Strode, Muriel. A Soul's Faring. Boni and Liveright

Squire, J. C. The Birds, and Other Poems. George H.
Doran Co.

Symons, Arthur. Lesbia and Other Poems. E. P. Dutton
and Co.

Symons, Arthur. Cesare Borgia, Iseult of Brittany, The
Toy Cart. Brentano's.

The Agamemnon of JBschylus. Translated into English
Rhyming Verse with Explanatory Notes by Gilbert
Murray. Oxford University Press.

The Book of Fairy Poetry. Edited by Dora Owen. Illus-
trated by Warwick Goble. Longmans, Green and Co.

The Courtship of Allies Standish. By Henry Wadsworth
Longfellow. With an Introduction by Ernest W. Long-
fellow, and with Pictures by N. C. Wyeth. Houghton
Mifflin Co.

The Divine Comedy of Dante AUghieri. The Italian Text
with a Translation in English Blank Verse. By Cour-
teney Langdon. Harvard University Pness.

The Garden of Bright Watery. One Hundred and Twenty
Asiatic Love Poems. Translated by Edward Powys
Mathers. Houghton Mifflin Co.

The John Keats Memorial Volume. Issued by the Keats
House Committee, Hampstead.

The Poems of Henry van Dyke. Charles Scribner*s Sons.

The Poems of Robert Burns. Edited by James L. Hughes.
George H. Doran Co.

The Poetical Works of John Keats. Edited with an Intro-
duction and Textual Notes by H. Buxton Forman.
Oxford University Press.

The Secret Rose Garden of Bo's Ud Din Mahmitd Shabistsri.
Rendered from the Persian with an Introduction by
Florence Lederer. E. P. Dutton and Co.

279

The Song of Roland. Done into English, in the Original
Metre by Charles Scott Moncrieff. With an Introduc-
tion by G. K. Chesterton, and a Note on Technique by
George Saintsbury. E. P, Dutton and Co.

The Sphinx. By Oscar Wilde. Illustrated and Decorated by
Alastair. John Lane Co.

The Vision, or Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise of Dante
Alighieri. Translated by Henry Francis Cary. Oxford
University Press.

Thayer, Gerald H. The Seven Parsons and the Small Ignan-
odon. In Inverted Legend. G. P. Putnam's Sons.

Thornley, Thomas. Verses from Fen and Fett. G. P. Put-
nam's Sons.

Untermeyer, Louis. The New Adam. Harcourt, Brace and
Howe.

Vernede, R. E. War Poems, and Other Verses. With an
Introductory Note by Edmund Gosse. George H. Doran
Co.

Waley, Arthur. Japanese Poetry. The "Uta." Oxford

University Press.
Walsh, Thomas (Editor). Hispanic Anthology. Poems

Translated from the Spanish by English and American

Poets. G. P. Putnam's Sons.
Walters, L. D'O. (Editor). An Anthology of Recent

Poetry. With an Introduction by Harold Monro. Dodd,

Mead and Co.
Webber, James Plaisted. Verses for a Littl& Maid. Boston:

Hanson Hart Webster.
Wells, Carolyn. The Boole of Humorous Verse. George H.

Doran Co.
West, Henry Litchfleld (Editor). Lyrics of the Links. The

Macmillan Co.
Ware, Richard D. Politics Regained. With Introductory

Remarks by John Milton. Amherst, N. H.: Amherst

Publishing Co.
Wilson, Carolyn Crosby. Fir Trees and Fireflies. G. P.

Putnam's Sons.
Wilson, Joseph R. "The Santa Fe Trail/' and Other Poems.

Philadelphia: International Printing Co.
Wilson, T. P. Cameron. Waste Paper Philosophy. To which

has been added Magpies in Picardy, and Other Poems.

With an Introduction by Robert Norwood. George H.

Doran Co.
"Wyilarde, Dolf. The Magdelene and Other Verses. John

Lane Co.

Yeats, William Butler. Selected Poems. The Macmillan Co.
280

A SELECT LIST OF BOOKS ABOUT POETS
AND POETRY

Abet, Adam. Social Conscience, Homocracy versus Monoc-
racy in Story, Verse and Essay. Co-operative Publish-
ing Co., Bridgeport, Conn.

Aldrich, Mrs. Thomas Bailey. Crowding Memories. Hough-
ton Mifflin Co.

Anthology of Modern Slavonic Literature. In Prose and
Verse. Translated by P. Selver, with an Introduction
and Literary Notes. B. P. Dutton and Co.

Ariosto, Shakespeare and Comeille. By Benedetto Croce.
Translated by Douglas Ainslee. Henry Holt and Co.

Bailey, John. Poetry and Commonplace. Oxford Univer-
sity Press.

Beers, Henry A. The Connecticut Wits, and Other Essays.
Yale University Press.

B/erdan, John M. Early Tudor Poetry. 1485-154*7. The
Macmillan Co

Blore, G. H. Victorian Worthies. Sixteen Biographies,
Oxford University Press.

Bridges, Robert. Milton's Prosody. With a Chapter on
Accentual Verse. Oxford University Press.

Britian's Tribute to Dante in Literature and Art. A
Chronological Record of 540 Years (c. 1380-1920). By
Paget Townbee. Oxford University Press.

Brooks, Charles S. Hints to Pilgrims. With Pictures by
Florence Minard. Yale University Press.

Brooke, Stopford A. Naturalism in English Poetry. E. P.
Dutton and Co.

Brown, P. Hume. Life of Goethe. 2 Vols. Henry Holt and
Co.

Brown, Rollo Walter. The Writer's Art. By Those Who
Have Practised It. Harvard University Press.

Browne, Edward G. A History of Persian Literature.
Under Tartar Dominion, A. D., 1265-1502. The Mac-
millan Co.

281

Burchardt, C. B. Norwegian Life and Literature. English
Accounts and Views Especially in the 19th Century.
Humphrey Milf ord.

Burdett, Osbert. The Idea of Coventry Patmore. Oxford
University Press.

Carritt, E. F. The Theory of Beauty. The Macmillan Co,
Collins, Joseph. Idling in Italy. Studies in Literature and

Life. Charles Scribner's Sons.
Cook, A. K. A Commentary Upon Browning's "The Ring

'and the Book." Oxford University Press.
Courthope, W. J. 1842-1917. Oxford University Press.
Crothers, Samuel McChord. Ralph Waldo Emerson. How

to Know Him. The Bobbs-Merrill Co.
Culver, Henry S. The Emerald Isle. In Poetry and

Picture. The Christopher Publishing House.
Cruickshank, A. H. Philip Massinger. Frederick A. Stokes

Co.

Dantis Alagherii Epistolae. The Letters of Dante,
Amended Text, with Introduction, Notes, and Indices
and Appendix on the Cursus by Paget Toynbee. Oxford
University Press.

Das, Harihar. Life and Letters of Torn Dutt. With a
Foreword by Right Hon. H. A. L. Fisher. Oxford Uni-
versity Press.

de Madariaga, Salvador. Shelley and C alder on, and Other
Essays on English and Spanish Poetry. E. P. Dutton
and Co.

Ellis, S. M. George Meredith. His Life and Friends in

Relation to His Work. Dodd, Mead and Co.
Elliot, T. S. The Sacred Wood. Essays on Poetry and

Criticism. Alfred A. Knopf.
Elton, Oliver. A Survey of English Literature, 1780-1880.

4Vols. The Macmillan Co.
Erskine, John. The Kinds of Poetry and Other Essay*.

Duffield and Co.

Farnell, Ida. Spanish Prose and Poetry. With Translated

Specimens. Oxford University Press.
Emerson, Oliver Farrar. John Dryden and a British

Academy. Oxford University Press.
Finch, M. B., and E. Allison Peers. The Origins of French

Romanticism E. P. Dutton and Co.
Fitzmaurice-Kelly, James. Fray Luis de Leon (Spanish

Poet). Oxford University Press.

Glasier, J. Bruce. William Morris and Early Days of th*
Socialist Movement. With a Preface by May Morris.
Longmans, Green and Co.

Goodell, Thomas Dwight Athenian Tragedy. Yale Univer-
sity Press.

Greenwood, Sir George. Shakspere*9 Handwriting. John

Lane Co.

Shakespeare's Law. Edwin Valentine Mitchell, Hartford,
Conn.

Hackett, Francis (Editor and Contributor). On American
Books. B. W. Huebsch.

Harper, George McLean. Wordsworth's French Daughter.
The Story of Her Birth, with the Certificates of Her
Baptism and Marriage. Princeton University Press.

Herford, C. H. The Normality of Shakespeare. Illustrated
in His Treatment of Love and Marriage. Oxford Uni-
versity Press.

Hind, C. Lewis. Authors and 7. John Lane Co.

Hopkins, R. Thurston. Kipling's Sussex. D. Appleton and
Co.

Hubbard, Frank G. The First Quarto Edition of Shakes-
peare's Hamlet. Edited with Introduction and Notes.
University of Wisconsin.

Hull, A. Eaglefield. Cyril Scott, Composer, Poet and
Philosopher. E. P. Button &nd Co.

Huneker, James Gibbons. Steeplejack. Charles Scribner's
Sons.

Keppel, Francis. Built in Jerusalem** Watt. Oxford Uni-
versity Press.

Ker, William Paton, The Art of Poetry. Oxford Univer-
sity Press.

la Prade, Ruth. Debs and the Poets. With an Introduction:
by Upton Sinclair. Published by Upton Sinclair.

Lee, Vernon. 8atan, the Waster. A Philosophic War
Trilogy, with Notes and Introduction. John Lane Co.

Limericks. Arranged and Illustrated by Florence Herrick
Gardiner. J. B. Lippincott Co.

Lynd, Robert The Art of Letters. Charles Scribner's Sons.

Mais, S. P. B. Books and Their Writers. Dodd, Mead and

Co.
Mallock, W. H. Memoirs of Life and Literature. Harper

and Bros.
Murray, J. Middleton. Aspects of Literature. Alfred A.

Knopf.

283

Newkirk, Garrett. Lincoln Life Sketches. In Verse and

Prose. DuffieldandCo.
Norwood, Gilbert. Greek Tragedy. John W. Luce and Co.

George C. D. Shakespeare. Prom Betterton to
Irving. 2 Vols. Charles Scribner's Sons.
Olivero, Prederico. Studies in Modern Poetry. Oxford Uni-
versity Press.

Parker, De Witt H. The Principles of Esthetics. Silver,

Burdette and Co.

Perry, Bliss. A Study of Poetry. Houghton Mifflin Co.
Pound, Louise. Poetic Origin* and the Ballad. The Mac-

mOlan Co.
Pritchard, Myron T., and Mary White Orington. The

Upward Path. A Collection of Stories and Poems by

Colored Authors. Harcourt, Brace and Howe.

Rothert, Otto A. The Story of a Poet: Madison Cawein.
His Intimate Life as Revealed by Hte Letters and
Hitherto Unpublished Material. John P. Morton Co.

Smith, C. Alphonso. Edgar Allen Poe. How to Know Him.

The Bobbs-Merrill Co.
Smith, Jean Pauline. The Esthetic Nature of Tennyson.

James T. White and Co.
Smith, Lewis Worthington, and Esse V* Hathaway. The

Bky-IAne in English Literature. D. Appleton and Co.
Songs of Two Savoyards. Words and Music by W*. S.

Gilbert. Music by Arthur Sullivan. E. P. Dutton and

Co.
Squire, J. C. Life and Letters. Essays. George H. Doran

Co.
Sturgeon, Mary C. Studies of Contemporary Poets. Dodd,

Mead and Co.
Summers, Walter Coventry. The Silver Age of Latin IMera-

ture. Frederick A. Stokes Co.
Symons, Arthur. Charles Baudelaire. A Study. E. P.

Dutton and Co.

Jennie Masters. Father Tabb. His Life and Work.

A Memorial by His Niece. Introduction by Dr. Charles

Alphonso Smith. The Stratford Co.
Taylor, Henry Osborn. Thought and Expression in the

Sixteenth Century. 2 Vols. The Macmillan Co.
The Atlantic Year Book. Being a Collection of Quotations

from The Atlantic Monthly. Compiled by Teresa S,

284

Fitzpatrick and Elizabeth M. Watts. The Atlantic

Monthly Press.
The Cambridge History of American Literature. Vols. 3

and 4. Edited by William Peterfield Trent, John

Erskine, Stuart P. Sherman and Carl van Doren. G. P.

Putnam's Sons.
The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri. Translated by

Charles Eliot Norton (New Edition). Houghton Mifflin

Co.
Thorndike, Ashley H. Literature w a Changing Age. The

Macmillan Co.
Toynbee, A. J. The Tragedy of Greece. Oxford: At the

Clarendon Press.

van Doren, Mark. The Poetry of John Dryden. Harcourt,
Brace and Howe.

Wendell, Barrett The Traditions of European Literature.

From Homer to Dante. Charles Scribner's Sons.
Williams, William Carlos. Kora in Hell: Improvisations.

The Four Seas Co.
Wright, C. H. C. French Classicism. Harvard University

Press.
Wuppermann, Carlos. The Deeper Faith. G. P. Putnam's

Sons.

285

INDEX OF FIRST LINES

Page
A delicate fabric of bird-song.

SABA TEASDALE 177

A fibre of rain on a window-pane.

HAZEL HALL 72

After the song the love, and after the love the play

ERNEST BENCHIMOL 21

Alembics turn to stranger things.

ELINOR WYLIE 206

A little while when I am gone.

SABA TE.ASDALE 179

All crying, "We will go with you, O Wind."

ROBERT FROST 50

All that could never be said.

SARA TEASDALE * 179

All that w<e know of April is her way.

DAVID MORTON 120

And God stepped out on space.

JAMES WELDON JOHNSON .... 98
An orchard in the valley.

WINIFRED WELLES 193

As I was lying in my bed.

ELINOR WYLIE 207

Ask me nothing now, my dear.

AMELIA JOSEPHINE BTJRR .... 24
As when trees were shrouded in December.

MAKTIN ARMSTRONG 10

A six o'clock of an autumn dusk.

SARA TEASDALE 178

Avoid the reeking herd.

ELINOR WTLIE 205

Beauty streamed into my hand.

HAZEL HALL 68

Before there was in Egypt any sound.

EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON- . . . 136
Between the dawn and the sun's rising.

MAXWELL ANDERSON 8

286

Page
Boys and girls, come out to play*

GENEVIEVE TAGGARD 167

Brief as the creaming waves that break and run,

KATHERINE LEE BATES 18

Brief is Man's travail here and transitory.

JOHN- HALL WHEELOCK 198

Cobbler, cease your stitching.

WINIFRED VIRGINIA JACKSON ... 85
"Curious you should not see my feet are weary.

MARY ALDIS ' 6

Day is the heart's red field.

LEONORA SPEYER 162

Dear ones, I have gambled, I have rolled the bone*.

KEENE WALLIS 188

Death devours all lovely things.

EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAT . . . .114
Deep-bosomed, stalwart-limbed, superbly made.

MARGARET TOD HITTER 132

Dere's some wa't says dat de Lawd wuz out.

LOTTISE AYRES GARNETT 5T

"Desperate, my men are our straits.

ARTHUR C. INMAN 82

Discomfort sweeps my quiet, as a wind.

HAZEL HALL 73

Door, you stand in your darkened frame.

HAZEL HALL 68

Do you share the present dread.

MAXWELL BODENHEIM 11

Earth will you be kind to her?

HENRY BELLAMANN 18

Enough has been said about roses.

GRACE HAZARD CONKLING .... 26
Even as to a music, stately and sad.

JOHN HALL WHEELOCK 198

Fanny ! If in your arms my soul could slip.

EDGAR LEE MASTERS 113

Frieze of warm bronze that glides with cat-like move-
ments.

JOHN GOULD FLETCHER 48

God said to the Puritan.

KARLE WILSON BAKER IT

Good morning, madam, in your sleepy brown hair.

MARJORIE ALLEN SEIFPERT . . . .158
Grampa Schuler, when he was young.

Rum SUCKOW . 167

Grey clouds, with sudden lakes of blue.

HOWARD MUMFORD JONES .... 101

287

Page
Happened that the moon was up before I went to bed.

KATHEBINE RIGGS 131

He built the house to show his neighbors.

AMY LOWELL 105

He never spoke a civil word.

WINXFRED 'VIRGINIA JACKSON ... 89
High, pale, imperial places of slow cloud.

FRANK ERNEST HILL 77

Hope gnawed at my heart like a hungry rat.

LEONORA SPEYEE 161

How goes it in your star-lit world.

SCUDDER MlDDLETON 114

How shall I keep April.

HAZEL HALL 67

How shall I sing of her that is.

JOHN HALL WHEELOCK 197

I am always carving arrows.

WINIFRED WELLES 192

I am less of myself and more of the sun.

HAZEL HALL 74

I climb them step by step,

JEANNETTE MASKS 112

I could never be properly dead.

KENNETH SLADE ATT.TNG . . , . 8
If praying to the saints could comfort.

GAMALIEL BRADFORD 24

I grasped a thread of silver; it cut me to the bone.

Aarr LOWELL Ill

I have a dream.

LOLA RIDGE 127

I have not forgotten yet.

HlLDEGARDE PLANNER 47

I have seen Mary at the cross.

WILLIAM ALEXANDER PERCY . . . 126
I have spoken with the dead.

HlLDEGARDE PLANNER 46

I have touched hands with peace and loveliness.

HAROLD VINAL 186

I knew of an honest cleanly inn where men much profit
had.

CHRISTOPHER MORLEY 117

I know that life is Jason.

OSCAR WILLIAMS 200

I like best those crotchety ones.

RUTH SITCKOW 166

Inasmuch as I love you.

CLIFFORD FRANKLIN GESSUGR ... 60

288

I never knew how words were vain.

KENNETH SHADE AULENG 7

Infinite gentleness, infinite irony.

SARA TEASDALE 180

In some far and lonely midnight

OSCAR WILLIAMS 199

In the desert near Khotan.

FRANK ERNEST HILL 75

Into a brown wood flew a brown bird.

WILLIAM ALEXANDER PERCY . . . 125
1 plunge at the rearing hours.

HAZEL HALL 71

I remember the cleared streets, the strange suspense.

KENNETH SLADE ALLING 7

I saw a hunchback climb over a hilL

JOHN PEALE BISHOP 22

I see so clearly now my similar years.

EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAT .... 116
I shall go in the wind.

EDWAHD J. O'BRIEN 121

I shall go out as all men go.

HAROLD TROBRIDGE PTJLSIFER .... 126
I should like to live as a ballad maid.

EDA Lotr WALTON 187

I think that Mary Magdalene,

LEONORA SPEYER 163

I took my longing up a cliff.

WINIFRED WELLES 191

I've a pocketful of emptiness for you, my Dear.

AMY LOWELL Ill

I've towered above the hilt of my spade.

DAVID GREENHOOD 63

I went a-riding, a-riding.

AMY LOWELL 107

I wisht dat I wuz Norah a-sailin* in de Arc.

LOUISE AYERS GARNETT 54

I wonder.

LOLA RIDGE 129

I wonder where it could of went to.

JOHN V. A. WEAVER 190

Keen as the breath of frozen fjords.

BABETTE DEUTSCH 39

Let us walk in the white snow.

EIJNOR WYLEB 204

lafeblood and spirit-fire.

MRS. ScHuruER VAN EENSSELAER . , 184

p&ffl
Life flings weariness over me.

HAZEL HALL 69

Like a dry fish- flung inland far from shore.

EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON , . . 135
Love us, Lord, but not too much.

JESSIE MACDONALD 112

Many a tree is found in the wood.

HENRY VAN DYKE 183

Measure me, sky.

LEONORA SPEYER 164

Minstrel, what have you to do

EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAT .... 115
My days are like sands; colorless.

HAZEL HALL ......... 65

My hands that guide a needle.

HAZEL HALL 72

My heart is heating up and down.

ELIZABETH MADOX ROBERTS .... 133
My house is filled with ghosts.

JOHN KENDRICK BANGS 15

My mind is dark with shadows of a sea.

EDA Lou WALTON 1ST

My only love is a sailor lad.

WILLIAM ALEXANDER PERCY .... 125
Never tell me that not one star of all.

ROBERT FBOST 52

Never was there a man much uglier.

EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON . . . 135
Nightingales and larks are found.

ALBERT EDMOND TROMBLY .... 182
Noiselessly the planets will blow by.

GENEVEEVE TAGGARD 171

Not of war, nor of tears did he build his song.

MARY LAPSLEY CATJGHEY ..... 26
Now I am life's victim.

HAZEL HALL 66

Now I know why ivy.

CAROLINE GILTINAN 61

Now the wry Rosenbloom is dead.

WALLACE STEVENS 164

Now there is no confusion in our love.

BABETTE DEUTSCH 38

O broken bird.

LEW SABETT 142

Old Vagabond Wind.

EMMY VERONICA SANDERS . , , . 140

290

Pag*
Once, on a gold May morning.

WINIFRED VIRGINIA JACKSON ... 97
On the wide waste the web of twilight trembling.

JOHN HALL WHEELOCK . . . . 196
Open your eyes.

HELDEGARDE FLANNER . ... 43

O thou elemental.

CLIFFORD FRANKLIN GESSLER ... 59
Pork an'.

WINIFRED VIRGINIA JACKSON ... 95
Radiant notes.

LOLA RIDGE 128

Rossetti walked his sorrow to a field.

BABETTE DEUTSCH 37

Shadowy under my window.

ELLEN JANSON . . . . . . 98

She will bear him children with straight backs and
sturdy limbs.

HAZEL RAWSON CADES . . 25

Slowly I pass along the blowing flowers.

HAROLD VINAL . 186

So long as there is April.

HAZEL HALL 66

Some love may come like a call to wars.

GEORGE BRANDON SATTL .... 155
Sometimes when I am alone.

HAZEL HALL ... ... 70

So to be loved and listened to and touched.

MARIE LOUISE HERSET . . . 78

So you visited Salem?

H. C. GAUSS . . .... 58

Sweet of the dawn is she.

OLIVE TILFORD DARGAN . . 30

Swift and a broken rock.

H. D 29

That bird in the maple next my eaves.

BENJAMIN R. C. Low 104

The dreams of my heart and my mind pass.

SARA TEASDALE 178

The farm was lonely, set so far.

WINIFRED VIRGINIA JACKSON ... 88

The house had gone to bring again.

ROBERT FROST 81

The leaves blow like ghosts through the blur of lamp-
light.

MAXWELL ANDERSON f

291

The Lord Apollo, who has never died.

EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON . . . 134
The moon has cast a spell upon my garden.

ANTOINETTE DE COTJRSEY PATEBRSON . 122
The moonlit hiJL

MARJORIE ALLEN* SEEFFERT .... 157
The morning comes riding to our market place.

DAVID ROSENTHAL 138

The pine trees patiently unstitch.

MAXWELL BODENHEIM 13

The poet names his burial-stead.

WILLIAM LAIRD , 103

There is a peewee bird that cries.

JAMES RORTY 136

There is a silence which I carry about with me always.

JOHN GOULD FLETCHER 47

There is a way.

LEONORA SPEYER 158

The river boat had loitered down its way.

DTT BOSE HEYWARD 79

The river country's wide and flat.

WILLIAM ALEXANDER PERCY ... 123
The shadow of a heron's wing is on the water.

ELLEN JANSEN . 98

The shop is red and crimson. Under the forge.

MARJORIE ALLEN SEIFFERT . . . . 155
The sounding battles leave him nodding still.

DAVID MORTON 120

The sun, in wanton pride.

JOSEPHINE PINCXNEY 122

The trivial, the small.

CLINTON SCOLLARD 141

The world is spread with rough grained silk.

HENRY BELLAMANN 19

They are unholy who are born.

ADUL TIMA 177

They shall come in and chat, their purses hid.

HORTENSE FLEXNER 49

Thick and stormy was the night.

GAMALIEL BRADFORD 23

Think of the world you know,

H. D 27

This mezzo-tint of mist and smoke blue air.

AGNES KENDRICK GAY 62

Through the window-pane I see your face.

MERCEDES DE ACOSTA 36

292

Page
To think to know the country and not know.

ROBERT FROST 49

Two faint shadows of women were ascending.

MARJORIE ALLEN SEIFFERT .... 156
Up from the smooth dust of the road they turned.

CLEMENT WOOD 200

"Upon these stones Time broke Ms teeth," you said.

BABETTE DEUTSCH . . 38

Up the old hill to the old house again.

EDWIN ARUNGTON ROBINSON . . . 134
Up through the mud and gravel Beauty climbs,

ABBIE HUSTON EVANS 41

Wall-mountains rimmed around the sky.

WINIFHED VIRGINIA JACKSON ... 92
Was there a wind?

LOLA RIDGE 130

We shall not shiver as we vainly try.

AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR , ... 25
We who loved Keats will never long forget.

CHARLES WHARTON STORK .... 166
What? Did my spotted lily startle you?

WINIFRED WELLES . . .... 194

What has become of "Junckets"? I know w,ell.

WILLIAM ROSE BENET 19

When blue dust thickens in the air.

AMANDA BENJAMIN HALL . ... 64
When I am playing by myself.

ELIZABETH MADOX ROBERTS .... 132
When I awake.

ERNEST BENSHIMOL 21

When I was a live man.

Louis UNTERMEYER 182

When life is very lonely.

WINIFRED VIRGINIA JACKSON ... 92
When sometimes, on a moony night, I've passed.

CHRISTOPHER MOHLEY 116

Where is your cross, poor homeless One? I see.

LEONORA SPEYER 162

Whistle under the water.

AMT LOWELL 109

Who would fear death when there is April?

HAZEL HALL 67

Why do I think of stairways.

HAZEL HALL 69

Wind blows upon them salt-hedged from the ocean.

ABBIE HTTSTON EVANS 42

293

Page
Within my house of patterned horn.

EIJNOR WYUOS 206

You must have shocked your father when you came.

STIRLING BOWEN 1-4

Your eyes drink of me

SABA TEASDALE 180

You whom Death wrung.

EMMY VERONICA SANDERS .... 141

294