GODSPEED!

Life, you have bruised me and chilled me; Fate, you have jeered at my pain;Dreams, you have mocked while you thrilled me—so I turn to the battle again.Love, you have blessed me and led me; the lips that have kissed you, you smite;Hope, you have urged me and fled me—but left is the joy of the fight!Never was I a coward! Now must I prove my worth.World, I will give you my courage; not tears but a hard-bought mirth.Work of my hands I grant you, labor and toil of brain,But heart and soul shall be wanting—for they are dead of pain!Forward! A fight to the death, then! Life is a sorry jest.Ahead! To the thick of tumult! Fate is a fool at the best.Courage! The war gods are greatest! Love is a false, fair light.To arms! For Dreams are frail bubbles, and Hope but a song in the night.World, I cast down the gauntlet, for you were made to defy!Own me a foe for your mettle! Ah, fighting let me die!Love, Hope and Dreams I give you; Life I fling at your feet;I will drink to the dregs of the bitter—for once I had tasted of sweet!Of one last taunt I shall rob you; stern, I will claim my due;One recompense you shall give me, balm I will snatch from you.’Tis neither Fame nor Glory—toys to break and regret;I demand to conquer Memory! I demand that I—forget.

Never was I a coward! Now must I prove my worth.World, I will give you my courage; not tears but a hard-bought mirth.Work of my hands I grant you, labor and toil of brain,But heart and soul shall be wanting—for they are dead of pain!Forward! A fight to the death, then! Life is a sorry jest.Ahead! To the thick of tumult! Fate is a fool at the best.Courage! The war gods are greatest! Love is a false, fair light.

To arms! For Dreams are frail bubbles, and Hope but a song in the night.World, I cast down the gauntlet, for you were made to defy!Own me a foe for your mettle! Ah, fighting let me die!Love, Hope and Dreams I give you; Life I fling at your feet;I will drink to the dregs of the bitter—for once I had tasted of sweet!Of one last taunt I shall rob you; stern, I will claim my due;One recompense you shall give me, balm I will snatch from you.’Tis neither Fame nor Glory—toys to break and regret;I demand to conquer Memory! I demand that I—forget.

The Smart SetFaith Baldwin

The soul speaks“Body o’ mine—and must I lay thee low?So long I have looked out from thy dear eye!Ears that have brought me song, and willing hands,And feet that carried me to pleasant fields—Shall dust claim all, and must I say good-bye?Godspeed!”

The body speaks:“Sister o’ mine—I go from whence I came,Perchance to bloom again, or if required,When time is ripe, to house another soul.Thou art more wise than I, yet recketh not,Oh, soul o’ mine, that I at last am tired!Godspeed!”

Southern Woman’s MagazineJane Belfield

This is the truth as I see it, my dear,Out in the wind and the rain:They who have nothing have little to fear,—Nothing to lose or to gain.Here by the road at the end o’ the year,Let us sit down and drink of our beer,Happy-Go-Lucky and her Cavalier,Out in the wind and the rain.Now we are old, hey, isn’t it fine,Out in the wind and the rain?Now we have nothing, why snivel and whine?What would it bring us again?When I was young I took you like wine,Held you and kissed you and thought you divine—Happy-Go-Lucky, the habit’s still mine,Out in the wind and the rain.Oh, my old Heart, what a life we have led,Out in the wind and the rain!How we have drunken and how we have fed!Nothing to lose or to gain.Cover the fire now; get we to bed.Long is the journey and far has it led.Come, let us sleep, lass, sleep like the dead,Out in the wind and the rain.

Now we are old, hey, isn’t it fine,Out in the wind and the rain?Now we have nothing, why snivel and whine?What would it bring us again?When I was young I took you like wine,Held you and kissed you and thought you divine—Happy-Go-Lucky, the habit’s still mine,Out in the wind and the rain.

Oh, my old Heart, what a life we have led,Out in the wind and the rain!How we have drunken and how we have fed!Nothing to lose or to gain.Cover the fire now; get we to bed.Long is the journey and far has it led.Come, let us sleep, lass, sleep like the dead,Out in the wind and the rain.

The BellmanMadison Cawein

A red-cap sang in Bishop’s wood,A lark o’er Golder’s lane,As I the April pathway trodBound west for Willesden.At foot each tiny blade grew bigAnd taller stood to hear,And every leaf on every twigWas like a little ear.As I too paused, and both ways triedTo catch the rippling rain,—So still, a hare kept at my sideHis tussock of disdain,—Behind me close I heard a step,A soft pit-pat surprise,And looking round my eyes fell deepInto sweet other eyes;The eyes like wells, where sun lies too,So clear and trustful brown,Without a bubble warning youThat here’s a place to drown.“How many miles?” Her broken shoesHad told of more than one.She answered like a dreaming Muse,“I came from Islington.”“So long a tramp?” Two gentle nods,Then seemed to lift a wing,And words fell soft as willow-buds,“I came to find the Spring.”A timid voice, yet not afraidIn ways so sweet to roam,As it with honey bees had playedAnd could no more go home.Her home! I saw the human lair,I heard the hucksters bawl,I stifled with the thickened airOf bickering mart and stall.Without a tuppence for a ride,Her feet had set her free.Her rags, that decency defied,Seemed new with liberty.But she was frail. Who would might noteThat trail of hungeringThat for an hour she had forgotIn wonder of the Spring.So shriven by her joy she glowedIt seemed a sin to chat.“A tea-shop snuggled off the road;”Why did I think of that?Oh, frail, so frail! I could have wept,—But she was passing on,And I but muddled “You’ll acceptA penny for a bun?”Then up her little throat a sprayOf rose climbed for it must;A wilding lost till safe it layHid by her curls of rust;And I saw modesties at fenceWith pride that bore no name;So old it was she knew not whenceIt sudden woke and came;But that which shone of all most clearWas startled, sadder thoughtThat I should give her back the fearOf life she had forgot.And I blushed for the world we’d made,Putting God’s hand aside,Till for the want of sun and shadeHis little children died;And blushed that I who every yearWith Spring went up and down,Must greet a soul that ached for herWith “penny for a bun!”Struck as a thief in holy placeWhose sin upon him cries,I watched the flowers leave her face,The song go from her eyes.Then she, sweet heart, she saw my rout,And of her charityA hand of grace put softly outAnd took the coin from me.A red-cap sang in Bishop’s wood,A lark o’er Golder’s lane;But I, alone, still glooming stood,And April plucked in vain;Till living words rang in my earsAnd sudden music played:Out of such sacred thirst as hersThe world shall be remade.Afar she turned her head and smiledAs might have smiled the Spring,And humble as a wondering childI watched her vanishing.

A red-cap sang in Bishop’s wood,A lark o’er Golder’s lane,As I the April pathway trodBound west for Willesden.

At foot each tiny blade grew bigAnd taller stood to hear,And every leaf on every twigWas like a little ear.

As I too paused, and both ways triedTo catch the rippling rain,—So still, a hare kept at my sideHis tussock of disdain,—

Behind me close I heard a step,A soft pit-pat surprise,And looking round my eyes fell deepInto sweet other eyes;

The eyes like wells, where sun lies too,So clear and trustful brown,Without a bubble warning youThat here’s a place to drown.

“How many miles?” Her broken shoesHad told of more than one.She answered like a dreaming Muse,“I came from Islington.”

“So long a tramp?” Two gentle nods,Then seemed to lift a wing,And words fell soft as willow-buds,“I came to find the Spring.”

A timid voice, yet not afraidIn ways so sweet to roam,As it with honey bees had playedAnd could no more go home.

Her home! I saw the human lair,I heard the hucksters bawl,I stifled with the thickened airOf bickering mart and stall.

Without a tuppence for a ride,Her feet had set her free.Her rags, that decency defied,Seemed new with liberty.

But she was frail. Who would might noteThat trail of hungeringThat for an hour she had forgotIn wonder of the Spring.

So shriven by her joy she glowedIt seemed a sin to chat.“A tea-shop snuggled off the road;”Why did I think of that?

Oh, frail, so frail! I could have wept,—But she was passing on,And I but muddled “You’ll acceptA penny for a bun?”

Then up her little throat a sprayOf rose climbed for it must;A wilding lost till safe it layHid by her curls of rust;

And I saw modesties at fenceWith pride that bore no name;So old it was she knew not whenceIt sudden woke and came;

But that which shone of all most clearWas startled, sadder thoughtThat I should give her back the fearOf life she had forgot.

And I blushed for the world we’d made,Putting God’s hand aside,Till for the want of sun and shadeHis little children died;And blushed that I who every yearWith Spring went up and down,Must greet a soul that ached for herWith “penny for a bun!”

Struck as a thief in holy placeWhose sin upon him cries,I watched the flowers leave her face,The song go from her eyes.

Then she, sweet heart, she saw my rout,And of her charityA hand of grace put softly outAnd took the coin from me.

A red-cap sang in Bishop’s wood,A lark o’er Golder’s lane;But I, alone, still glooming stood,And April plucked in vain;

Till living words rang in my earsAnd sudden music played:Out of such sacred thirst as hersThe world shall be remade.

Afar she turned her head and smiledAs might have smiled the Spring,And humble as a wondering childI watched her vanishing.

Atlantic MonthlyOlive Tilford Dargan

NevermoreShall the shepherds of Arcady followPan’s moods as he lolls by the shoreOf the mere, or lies hid in the hollow;NevermoreShall they start at the sound of his reed fashioned flute;Fallen muteAre the strings of Apollo,His lyre and his lute;And the lips of the Memnons are muteEvermore;And the gods of the North,—are they dead or forgetful,Our Odin and Baldur and Thor?Are they drunk, or grown weary of worship and fretful,Our Odin and Baldur and Thor?And into what night have the Orient deities strayed?You swart gods of the Nile, in dusk splendors arrayed,Brooding Isis and sombre Osiris,You were gone ere the fragile papyrusThat bragged you eternal decayed.The avatarsBut illumine their limited evensAnd vanish like plunging stars;They are fixed in the whirling heavensNo firmer than falling stars;Brief lords of the changing soul, they passLike a breath from the face of a glass,Or a blossom of summer blown shalloplike overThe cloverAnd tossed tides of grass.Sink to silence the psalms and the pæans,The shibboleths shift, and the faiths,And the temples that challenged the æonsAre tenanted only by wraiths;Swoon to silence the cymbals and psalters,The worship grow senseless and strange,And the mockers ask, “Where be thy altars?”Crying, “Nothing is changeless—but Change!”Yea, nothing seems changeless, but Change.And yet, through the creed wrecking years,One story forever appears:The tale of a City Supernal—The whisper of Something eternal—A passion, a hope and a visionThat people the silence with Powers;A fable of meadows ElysianWhere Time enters not with his Hours;—Manifold are the tale’s variations,Race and clime ever tinting the dreams.Yet its essence, through endless mutations,Immutable gleams.Deathless, though godheads be dying,Surviving the creeds that expire,Illogical, reason defying,Lives that passionate, primal desire;Insistent, persistent, foreverMan cries to the silences, “NeverShall Death reign the lord of the soul,Shall the dust be the ultimate goal—I will storm the black bastions of Night!I will tread where my vision has trod,I will set in the darkness a light,In the vastness, a god!”As the skull of the man grows broader, so do his creeds;And his gods they are shaped in his image, and mirror his needs;And he clothes them with thunders and beauty,He clothes them with music and fire.Seeing not, as he bows by their altars,That he worships his own desire;And mixed with his trust there is terror,And mixed with his madness is ruth,And every man grovels in error,Yet every man glimpses a truth.For all of the creeds are false, and all of the creeds are true;And low at the shrines where my brothers bow, there will I bow too;For no form of a god, and no fashionMan has made in his desperate passionBut is worthy some worship of mine;Not too hot with a gross belief,Nor yet too cold with pride,I will bow me down where my brothers bow,Humble, but open eyed.

NevermoreShall the shepherds of Arcady followPan’s moods as he lolls by the shoreOf the mere, or lies hid in the hollow;NevermoreShall they start at the sound of his reed fashioned flute;

Fallen muteAre the strings of Apollo,His lyre and his lute;And the lips of the Memnons are muteEvermore;

And the gods of the North,—are they dead or forgetful,Our Odin and Baldur and Thor?Are they drunk, or grown weary of worship and fretful,Our Odin and Baldur and Thor?

And into what night have the Orient deities strayed?You swart gods of the Nile, in dusk splendors arrayed,Brooding Isis and sombre Osiris,You were gone ere the fragile papyrusThat bragged you eternal decayed.

The avatarsBut illumine their limited evensAnd vanish like plunging stars;They are fixed in the whirling heavensNo firmer than falling stars;Brief lords of the changing soul, they passLike a breath from the face of a glass,Or a blossom of summer blown shalloplike overThe cloverAnd tossed tides of grass.

Sink to silence the psalms and the pæans,The shibboleths shift, and the faiths,And the temples that challenged the æonsAre tenanted only by wraiths;Swoon to silence the cymbals and psalters,The worship grow senseless and strange,And the mockers ask, “Where be thy altars?”Crying, “Nothing is changeless—but Change!”Yea, nothing seems changeless, but Change.And yet, through the creed wrecking years,One story forever appears:

The tale of a City Supernal—The whisper of Something eternal—A passion, a hope and a visionThat people the silence with Powers;A fable of meadows ElysianWhere Time enters not with his Hours;—Manifold are the tale’s variations,Race and clime ever tinting the dreams.Yet its essence, through endless mutations,Immutable gleams.

Deathless, though godheads be dying,Surviving the creeds that expire,Illogical, reason defying,Lives that passionate, primal desire;Insistent, persistent, foreverMan cries to the silences, “NeverShall Death reign the lord of the soul,Shall the dust be the ultimate goal—I will storm the black bastions of Night!I will tread where my vision has trod,I will set in the darkness a light,In the vastness, a god!”

As the skull of the man grows broader, so do his creeds;And his gods they are shaped in his image, and mirror his needs;And he clothes them with thunders and beauty,He clothes them with music and fire.Seeing not, as he bows by their altars,That he worships his own desire;And mixed with his trust there is terror,And mixed with his madness is ruth,And every man grovels in error,Yet every man glimpses a truth.

For all of the creeds are false, and all of the creeds are true;And low at the shrines where my brothers bow, there will I bow too;For no form of a god, and no fashionMan has made in his desperate passionBut is worthy some worship of mine;Not too hot with a gross belief,Nor yet too cold with pride,I will bow me down where my brothers bow,Humble, but open eyed.

Evening SunDon Marquis

* Certain volumes of new poetry and collected editions are drawn to the individual reader’s notice by an asterisk employed to indicate special poetic distinction.

*The East I Know. By Paul Claudel. Translated from the French by Teresa Frances and William Rose Benét.(Yale University Press: $1.25 net.) A volume of prose poems by one of the greatest poets living in the world to-day. Although Paul Claudel is unknown to English readers, his influence is the strongest shaping force there is on the young poetry of most European countries. This volume is as much of a literary event as the publication of John Synge’s first volume in this country. I know of no living writer of whom we may more confidently predict immortality for his work. The present volume reveals the soul of China in wonderful strophes, and though perhaps the slightest of Claudel’s books, is the volume by which Claudel may be most fittingly introduced to the American public. If any reader can set down this volume without realizing that a great new force in literature and life has been born into the world, he is incapable of imaginative appreciation.

*The Single Hound: Poems of a Lifetime. By Emily Dickinson.(Little, Brown, & Co.: $1.25 net.) A new volume by one of the world’s great spiritual artists, which contains much poetry that is imperishable as an integral part of American literature. With Blake’s naked uncompromising vision, and his absorption in the eternal shadows of mortality, she has a personal and fragrant beauty of feeling and expression which is unique and incomparable. Her verses are like flashes of lightning illumining the chaos of our material existence.The Single Houndis the rich legacy of a great spiritual imagination. There are few books in American poetry of which we can more confidently predict immortality.

*Collected Poems. By Norman Gale.(Macmillan: $1.50 net.) The poet’s choice of the lyrics and longer poems by which he wishes to be definitely remembered. Indispensable to every library. No poet since the Elizabethans has managed to convey such an infectious joy into pastoral poetry, and the best of these poems are permanent treasuretrove for the anthologist. Such a volume as this would alone dignify a season.

*Georgian Poetry. Edited by E. M.(Putnam: $1.50 net.) A superb collection of representative poems by the younger English writers who have won their reputation in the last four or five years. This book, which has gone through nine English editions already, should meet with as great success in this country. Here, and here only, will you find the authentic younger singers adequately represented by hitherto unpublished work. If this volume introduces Rupert Brooke and Lascelles Abercrombie to America, it will have done our literature a service great enough to justify its publication.

*The Congo and Other Poems. By Vachel Lindsay.(Macmillan: $1.25 net.) A new volume of verse by Mr. Lindsay, whose first book was the most significant publication in American poetry last year. While this book does not mark an advance, many of the poems written to be chanted aloud fully sustain the poet’s reputation, and the volume is graced with a selection of the best and less strident of theRhymes to be Traded for Bread.As the poetic interpreter of the Middle West, Mr. Lindsay is performing a great social service, as well as a great service to poetry by bringing it into the homes and hearts of the people.The Firemen’s BallandI Heard Immanuel Singinghave qualities of permanence, and in the former Mr. Lindsay has perfected a new medium of poetic expression. But we are in danger of losing sight of Mr. Lindsay’s more delicate talent by virtue of which he is preëminently a poet

*The Present Hour: A Book of Poems. By Percy MacKaye.(Macmillan: $1.25 net.) The poems dealing with the present war reaffirm Mr. MacKay’s authority of utterance, and the best of the sonnets surpass William Watson’s “The Purple East.” But it is in “Fight” and “School” that the poet has at last found himself and invented a medium admirably fitted to express what he desires. These two poems have all the distinction of Masefield with the originality and shrewdness of New England feeling, and a homeliness which is unique in contemporary poetry. The volume includes many poems of occasion, all adequate, and in the case of “Goethals” and one or two others, noble. So far, Mr. MacKaye’s best volume of poems.

*The Complete Poems of S. Weir Mitchell.(Century Co.: $2.00 net.) The definitive edition of Dr. Mitchell’s poetry revised according to his final wishes. It should serve to make known to the present generation the graceful contemplative poetry of that rival to America’s other distinguished physician-poet, Dr. Holmes. Dr. Mitchell’s poems of occasion at their best are equal to the best of Dr. Holmes, while his “Ode to a Lycian Tomb” surpasses “The Chambered Nautilus.” It is one of the anomalies of literature that Dr. Mitchell’s novels have so long overshadowed his poetry. In this volume the best of his dramatic work is included, and “Drake” is a play of poetic distinction in its way. The volume may rest pleasantly with its peers on the same library shelf with the poems of Longfellow and Holmes. It is the harvest of sixty years devoted to poetry.

*Songs for the New Age. By James Oppenheim.(Century Co.: $1.25 net.) The most significant volume of new poetry of the year 1914, as Vachel Lindsay’sGeneral William Booth Enters Into Heavenwas the most significant volume of 1913. With more self-conscious art than Whitman, in the verse form which Whitman was once thought to have perfected, Mr. Oppenheim sings the joys and sorrows of the race now and to come. The vision of these poems is swift and sure: their philosophy, mature and American. If there is one volume of verse this year which we might safely recommend to every American man and woman who has not read poetry before, it is this book, where they will find their dreams and strivings sung and interpreted in a book which has qualities of greatness. The form of these poems is so difficult to shape perfectly that Mr. Oppenheim’s technical achievement can only be characterized as masterly. The volume is the only one in which the use of “polyrhythmic verse” can claim complete justification sinceLeaves of Grass, and its art is as individual as its matter.Songs for the New Agemay reaffirm much of Whitman, but they do not echo him. The volume will prove more and more satisfying with each rereading. And its message to the American people may not pass unheeded.

*The Grand Canyon, and Other Poems. By Henry Van Dyke.(Scribner: $1.25 net.) Poetry of the quality familiar to Dr. Van Dyke’s readers, and fully equal to the poetry in his earlier volumes. To the more seriouspoems are added several delightfully humorous poems of occasion, among whichArs Agricolarisis a classic of its kind.

*The Flight, and Other Poems. By George Edward Woodberry.(Macmillan $1.25 net.) Mr. Woodberry’s finest volume of verse, in which he gives expression to many moods of intellectual beauty and a philosophy of the ideal akin to Shelley. It contains one lyric,Comrades, absolutely peerless and worthy to be set beside Browning’sThe Guardian Angel, if it does not surpass it. These poems are the fruit of a ripe culture and a passionate idealism thoroughly American in its voicing of its message. One of the most completely satisfying volumes of the year.

The List of ten books printed above and the following fifteen titles:—

*In Deep Places. By Amelia Josephine Burr.(Doran: $1.00 net.) Fine dramatic monologues and narrative poems, which represent a great advance over Miss Burr’s previous book.Jehaneis a worthy sequel toThe Haystack in the Floodsby William Morris.Allah is With the Patientand other narrative poems are related in a blank verse of firm yet varied texture. Miss Burr’s dramatic imagination interprets Italy and England in human terms, and travel has afforded her lyric opportunities to which she has responded sensitively and well. With this volume Miss Burr has come to stay.

*The Little King. By Witter Bynner.(Kennerley: $.60 net.) A stark one-act play in verse of swift sure dramatic nerve about the little son of Marie Antoinette. With great economy of material and vivid historic imagination, Mr. Bynner has madeThe Little Kinghuman and poignant in his brief little tragedy.

*Earth Deities, and Other Rhythmic Masques. By Bliss Carman and Mary Perry King.(Kennerley: $1.50 net.) Four masques of earth with Mr. Carman’s old familiar lyric quality directed into fresh and living channels. Each of them would afford a rare delight to an audience, particularly if accompanied by the rhythmic dances which have been designed for them by Mary Perry King.

*Poetical Works. By Edward Dowden. In two volumes.(Dutton: $4.00 net.) A permanent and integral part of English literature. It is gratifying to find tardy justice done at last to the merits of the late Professor Dowden as a poet. Those who care for the work of Mr. Woodberry will find the same qualities in Dowden’s poetry, but in a larger and more authoritative voice. Moreover, he is one of the great nineteenth century sonneteers. His many hymns to intellectual beauty have not an undistinguished line in them, and as a lyric poet his singing quality is infectious. This is the first edition of his poems since 1876, and contains many which have never been collected before. The second volume is a pleasant translation of Goethe’s,The West Eastern Divan. It will not greatly interest admirers of Prof. Dowden’s work, and should be sold separately.

*Borderlands and Thoroughfares. By Wilfrid Wilson Gibson.(Macmillan: $1.25 net.) Mr. Gibson’s fourth volume in three years. Though not equal to his earlier books, it will well repay the lover of poetry. The first section, entitledBorderlandsconsists of three dramatic dialogues in free verse which aim with some success to be simple, sensuous, and passionate.Hoopsis one of Mr. Gibson’s most satisfactory poems. The second section, entitledThoroughfarescomprises shorter poems, many of which are dramatic monologues, and of theseSolway FordandThe Gorserepresent Mr. Gibson’s best. As we have said elsewhere, Mr. Gibson’s art “satisfies our æsthetic emotions and fulfils our social needs.”

*Aroun’ the Boreens: A Little Book of Celtic Verse. By Agnes I. Hanrahan.(Badger: $1.00 net.) A slight volume of Irish songs equal to the very best by Eva Gore-Booth or Mrs. Hinkson, and tipped with a more delicate art. The volume should be on every shelf beside Moira O’Neill’sSongs of the Glens of Antrim.

*The Cry of Youth. By Harry Kemp.(Kennerley: $1.25 net.) Terse ringing ballads of modern life with much of Buchanan’s quality and keen technique. Despite the propagandist note, which is less insistent than in most poetry of a socialistic tendency, Mr. Kemp has succeeded with some quiet reserve in making the reader feel the pity of lonely outcast life, and in expressing his philosophy in genuine poetry. The sincerity of his work is unquestionable, and the volume merits a critical attention on itsmerits which we should be anxious to assist.The Cry of Youthis not written solely for an audience of poets and critics. It is genuine poetry of cruelly naked emotion borne unflinchingly.

*Songs of the Dead End. By Patrick MacGill.(Kennerley: $1.25 net.) Poetry of labor and poetry without a brief in about equal measure. Though the former is fine, Mr. MacGill’s best work is to be found in the latter. The poet has been a navvy, a miner, a switchman, a car-coupler, a tramp, and a plate-layer, and out of grinding poverty and toil his poetry has emerged. There is danger of a wrong emphasis on his social poetry. It is good, but not better than that of several others. The less premeditated lyrics will give the greatest pleasure to the reader, and to many of them one will turn again and again.

*Philip the King, and Other Poems. By John Masefield.(Macmillan: $1.25 net.) A one-act play in verse which is competent but would not be distinctive were it not for a superb ballad of the Armada, which challenges comparison with Drayton. Four other poems of strong beauty which redeem the rest of the volume, and make it necessary to poetry lovers. The notable war-poem entitledAugust, 1914, is included.

*The Wine-Press: A Tale of War. By Alfred Noyes.(Stokes: $.60 net.) A tale of the horror of war and its blind futility, whose scene is laid in the Balkans. It is told with all of Mr. Noyes’s art and its awful lesson should be particularly timely in the midst of the present struggle. The poem is a hymn to liberty passionately voiced, and brings death and suffering home in relentless poetry.

*Songs of Labor, and Other Poems. By Morris Rosenfeld. Translated from the Yiddish by Rose Pastor Stokes and Helena Frank.(Badger: $.75 net.) An excellent translation of the poems of an American Yiddish poet of poignant beauty, whose work has hitherto not been accessible to English readers except in an incomplete prose version. The present translation includes many poems now published for the first time, and is adorned with two remarkable illustrations in black and white which reveal new possibilities in line. A volume which deserves to go through many editions.

*Poems. By Clinton Scollard.(Houghton-Mifflin: $1.25 net.) A selection of Mr. Scollard’s best poems from hisnumerous volumes. It should serve to define his place in American poetry, which is beside Mr. Cawein. Delicate fancy and a love of nature which is not vague are united to an opulence of expression which has not always done Mr. Scollard service, but which in almost every poem in this volume results in giving the pleasure of fine poetic sensation to the discriminating reader.

Songs and Sonnets for England in War Time.(Lane: $.75 net.) A collection of the best poems by English poets inspired by the war, issued for the benefit of the Prince of Wales Fund. The total profits of the volume are turned over to this fund for relief work, and the purchaser will not only procure a volume whose significance will be more and more realised as time passes, but will be contributing in small measure to this charitable work.

*Challenge. By Louis Untermeyer.(Century Co.: $1.00 net) One of the most significant new volumes of the year. With much of Shelley’s social enthusiasm and a genuine inspiration, he sings the strength and weakness of our democracy with the eagerness of youth. This is a volume whose significance will grow as the years go by, and it should be associated with Mr. Oppenheim’s new volume on which comment will be found elsewhere. Although democracy is the substance of his song, yet the feeling for beauty’s essence which here finds lyrical expression is the most substantially satisfying quality of his work.

*Earth Triumphant, and Other Tales in Verse. By Conrad Aiken.(Macmillan: $1.25 net.) Three narrative poems of distinction, followed by shorter poems interpreting the philosophy of youth. They suggest comparison with the longer poems of John Masefield, but have a firm independent technique of their own. With genuine beauty they relate tales which reveal the heart of modern life in various phases of youth, and contain a reading of earth which differs in essentials from that of Meredith. The volume deserves a wider audience than the usual public which cares for poetry. It has a message which every American will appreciate, and if it helps to spread aninterest in poetry among new circles of readers, it will only be fulfilling its mission. It is a distinguished first book of verse.

Poems. By Walter Conrad Arensberg.(Houghton-Mifflin: $1.00 net.) The most artistic volume of poetry this year in its technique. Aloofness, controlled emotion, conscious art, are the characteristics of his poetry. Despite an occasionalbizarrerie, despite echoes of Verlaine and Laforgue, Mr. Arensberg is a classicist. His technique is faultless. Each line is not only exquisite in itself, but it is perfectly coördinated with every other line. If these poems leave the reader cold, they offer an abundant intellectual compensation for the “thrills” of other poets. The special qualities of his verse are unique in American poetry, and will surely appeal to a discriminating circle, though his work is unlikely to become popular.

The Minor Poems of Joseph Beaumont. Edited by Eloise Robinson.(Houghton-Mifflin: $5.00 net.) An authoritative text of Joseph Beaumont’s minor poems edited from a manuscript in the possession of Professor George Herbert Palmer. The poems are preceded by a critical introduction and followed by a brief but careful textual apparatus. While Beaumont was a very minor poet, the fact remains that he was a significant member of the group of metaphysical poets of whom Vaughan was the greatest, and this volume must take its place in any collection of English poetry which claims to be even reasonably complete.

The Falconer of God, and Other Poems. By William Rose Benét.(Yale University Press: $1.25 net.) Mr. Benét’s second collection marks an advance in facility combined with a greater restraint and reticence. It includes many fine ballads, and several dramatic soliloquies only surpassed this year by those in Miss Burr’s new volume. Although there is much which is experimental in the book, it is successful experiment, and Mr. Benét’s range of expression is continually broadening.

*Auguries. By Laurence Binyon.(Lane: $1.00 net.) One of the most satisfying collections of verse of a noteworthy poet who is too little known and appreciated in this country. Its grave classical beauty will never assure it popularity, but at its best it is worthy to stand beside Mr. Bridges, and it contains no poem that is not excellent.Ferry Hinkseyis a lyric which no future anthologistcan overlook. Next to Mr. Arensberg’s poems, the most satisfying new volume artistically of the year. It demands silence and complete surrender.

Broad-Sheet Ballads. With An Introduction by Padraic Colum.(Norman, Remington: $.75 net.) A narrow, but good, selection of the best of the Broad-Sheet Ballads which occupy so definite a place in Irish poetry. These waifs and strays have been gathered previously in various collections, but never before in a volume calculated to appeal to the general public. An introduction telling the story of this form of art and the characteristics of its audiences and appeal to them is prefixed.

*Syrinx: Pastels of Hellas. By Mitchell S. Buck.(Claire-Marie: $1.25 net.) A volume of prose poems of reticent Pagan art, suggestive of the best work of Pierre Louys. Unique in American poetry, and really beautiful.

In the High Hills. By Maxwell Struthers Burt.(Houghton-Mifflin: $1.25 net.) The verse in this volume is of a kind that has eminent qualities without eminent distinction. The earnestness and sincerity of Mr. Burt’s poetic moods give to his poetry those sound qualities which at least compel attention, if they do not excite the emotions. The elements of poetry are not fused with imaginative heat in his work, and hence it lacks magic, but it reflects the gentlemanly feeling of a lover of poetry in verse which demands respect.

The Sun-Thief, and Other Poems. By Rhys Carpenter.(Oxford University Press: $1.75 net.) Competent academic verse on classical models, including a new version of the Prometheus legend.

The Poet and Nature: What He Saw and What He Heard. By Madison Cawein.(John P. Morton & Co.: Louisville, Kentucky. $1.50.) A volume of prose and verse designed to encourage a love of poetry in children. The first half of the volume is in the form of a juvenile story with previously published lyrics of Mr. Cawein interspersed as examples of poetic beauty: the second half of the volume consists of hitherto uncollected poems of nature by Mr. Cawein now gathered together under the title ofThe Morning Road. This part of the volume should give especial pleasure to Mr. Cawein’s readers.

Green Days and Blue Days. By Patrick R. Chalmers.(Norman, Remington: $1.00 net.) A pleasant volume of light verse by a contributor toPunch. The verses do notpretend to be more than agreeable diversions, and reflect the lighter moods of life happily and in delicate numbers.

At the Shrine, and Other Poems. By George Herbert Clarke.(Stewart and Kidd: $1.25 net.) A pleasant unassuming collection of somewhat academic verse reflecting a life of scholarly leisure. The closing section of letters in verse to departed novelists is particularly happy, recalling at no great distance the similar work of Austin Dobson.

*Path Flower. By Olive Tilford Dargan.(Scribner: $1.25 net.) With this volume of lyrical poems Olive Tilford Dargan definitely takes her place as one of our foremost younger poets. With much of Francis Thompson’s vision of an overarching heaven and a shadowed earth, and also much of Thompson’s mannerism, she is herself in the best of these poems, in which she treats high themes with high artistic fervor. Her feeling for landscape is English in its delicacy, and she has interpreted the influence of nature on human life and its incidence with clear insight and sympathy. No one will deny Mrs. Dargan’s poetic inspiration or the refinement of her vision.

Florence on a Certain Night, and Other Poems. By Coningsby Dawson.(Holt: $1.25 net.) A volume of undistinguished literary verse by a distinguished novelist.

*America and Other Poems. By W. J. Dawson.(Lane: $1.25 net.) The expression of an ideal America as seen by one with an alien tradition. The volume includes several fine ballad narratives, notably “The Kiss,” “Salome,” and the swift sure rhythmic “Last Ride of the Sheik Abdullah;” above all, “Blake’s Homecoming,” a member of the royal line of English ballads. In addition to competent lyrics on various themes, special attention should be called to the poems of childhood and the delicately imagined meditative poems of religious feeling. So many religious poems rely wholly on a good intention, “more fit to pave Hell than cause rejoicing in Heaven,” as a French critic says, that exceptions should be noted. The volume marks an appreciable advance over Dr. Dawson’s previous collections.

A Pageant of the Thirteenth Century for the Seven Hundredth Anniversary of Roger Bacon. The Text by John Erskine.(Columbia University Press.) A pageant reflecting the culture and endeavor of the thirteenth century in every field. The text is in verse of fine texture and imaginative expression by Professor Erskine of Columbia University. While the pageant itself has been deferred because of the war, it is still possible to enjoy the text, and to look forward to the pageant’s representation in the near future.

Lux Juventutis: A Book of Verse. By Katharine A. Esdaile.(Houghton-Mifflin: $1.25 net.) The first volume of a young English poet who shows considerable promise. It is characterised by classical restraint and a fine feeling for form, and does not lack singing quality.

*Sonnets from the Patagonian. By Donald Evans.(Claire-Marie: $1.25 net.) Eighteen impressionistic sonnets of exotic workmanship, suggesting the fantasy of Laforgue, but more extremely composed in disembodied words. They rely on tone color for much of their effect, and are bizarre to the point of irony. However, they grow on the reader as he becomes familiar with them, and their consummate art is unquestionable.

*Sonnets of a Portrait-Painter. By Arthur Davison Ficke.(Kennerley: $1.00 net.) A sequence of fifty-seven sonnets in an undeservedly neglected form, which do not recall too definitely Meredith’sModern Love. They are extremely subtle and their intellectual content is very closely woven, so that they will prove difficult reading, but they repay careful study, and in many sonnets the lyric impulse has happily overmastered the poet completely. A collection which is worthy of several readings.

*Arrows in the Gale. By Arturo Giovannitti.(Hillacre Bookhouse, Riverside, Connecticut: $1.25 net.) One of the more important volumes of new verse this year. A passionate voicing of social injustice in imaginative strophes, which introduce a new poetic form with considerable art.The Cage, when printed in the Atlantic Monthly, last year, was called the most significant poem published in that periodical since Moody’sOde in Time of Hesitation. The volume claims a hearing as fine poetry rather than as an expression of Syndicalism. There is an appreciative introduction by Helen Keller which is good criticism.

*My Lady’s Book. By Gerald Gould.(Kennerley: $1.00 net.) Twenty lyrics of pure song quality which are almost faultless in their perfection, though in a minor key. A volume to afford pure delight by its unaffected lyric quality.

Poems. By Katharine Howard.(Sherman, French: $1.00 net.) Minor verse invers libre, which is frequently pleasing and always individual. It is the expression of a whimsical personality who wears her singing robes lightly, and who is most successful in verse of macabre suggestion.

*Des Imagistes: An Anthology.(Boni: $1.00.) The best collection of “imagiste” poetry, in which the work of Ford Madox Hueffer, F. S. Flint, Amy Lowell, and others is represented. There are many poems in the volume which will give pleasure, but as a collection it is uneven and rather tenuous. The work of F. S. Flint which it contains justifies the volume’s purchase.

The Thresher’s Wife. By Harry Kemp.(Boni: $.40 net.) A narrative poem well told in the manner of Masefield, whose influence upon it has been great.

*Trees, and Other Poems. By Joyce Kilmer.(Doran: $1.00 net.) The spirit of youth and grave faith expressed in lyric numbers. This slight little book defines a personality of poetic interest. The book shows less alien influence than most recent American poetry, and is quite individual in its affirmations. Though unassuming, the book will not meet with just treatment unless we recognize the fine lyric accomplishment of such poems asTreesandMartin. Is this volume the prelude of a little Catholic Renaissance in American poetry?

*The Shadow of Ætna. By Louie V. Ledoux.(Putnam: $1.00 net.) Severely chaste poetry on classical models of distinguished beauty. They reveal fine intellectual feeling that recalls Shelley in its intensity and Arnold in its disciplined reticence. They have all the warmth of life seen against an eternal background, and a passionate message which cannot go unheeded.

*The Sharing. By Agnes Lee.(Sherman, French: $1.00 net.) Agnes Lee’s new book has all her familiar qualities, but in addition it presents a new criticism of life which reveals a feeling for human values akin in many respects to that of Browning. In its brevity and search for the polished word, it suggests the sculptor’s art, and many of these poems would have pleased Landor for their freight of suggestion and elemental simplicity.

*Sword Blades and Poppy Seed. By Amy Lowell.(Macmillan: $1.25 net.) A volume, not only of interesting experiment invers libreand exotic rhythms, but ofnotable accomplishment in poetry. Though associated with the “imagiste” school of English poetry, Miss Lowell’s talent is independent of it, and in her narrative and lyric poems alike one feels an artistic firmness and restraint which results in clear vision clearly sung. Best of all, this “imagiste” poetry is healthy and able to fight for its existence. In so far as it is derivative from French influences it adds a new note to English verse, and reveals a subtle use of free cadenced rhythms which is fully responsive to the mood and feeling of the poem. Far more genuine and spontaneous than Miss Lowell’s first volume.

The Passing Singer and Other Poems. By Samuel Henry Marcus.(Stratford Pub. Co.: $1.00 net.) A modest first volume which is likely to receive less attention than it deserves. Mr. Marcus has not yet found himself in poetry, but he sings the present condition of humanity sincerely and passionately. When he sings it simply, he will be more satisfying, but this volume will give pleasure to any one who really cares for poetry.

*Poems. By Edward Sandford Martin.(Scribner: $1.50 net.) The collected verse of the Editor ofLife. Mellow Horatian philosophy and wit not yet frost-bitten by a man whom Dr. Johnson would have pronounced clubbable and with whom Boswells must feel uncomfortable.

You and I. By Harriet Monroe.(Macmillan: $1.25 net.) A bulky volume of verse by the editor ofPoetry: A Magazine Of Verse. In it the social note is voiced strongly, and expression is given to many phases of modern effort, but its intellectual content rather overshadows its lyric quality.

*The Sea is Kind. By T. Sturge Moore.(Houghton-Mifflin: $1.50 net.) This is the first collection issued in America of the poems of an English craftsman of great distinction and power, whose chief weakness is an over-proportion of intellectual substance. He lacks the glow of beauty, and perhaps of beauty’s realization, but his work is literary craftsmanship of the highest order, and his metrical experiments are almost as significant as those of Mr. Bridges. Altogether the artistic product of a richly stored mind without aspiration or imaginative vision.

*Saloon Sonnets: With Sunday Flutings. By Allen Norton.(Claire-Marie: $1.25 net.) A volume less bizarre than its title implies. The sonnets bear evidence ofueberkultur, but occasionally surprise the reader by their pleasant lyric charm. They do not lack virility and enthusiasm.

The Sister of the Wind. By Grace Fallow Norton.(Houghton-Mifflin: $1.00 net.) A new volume by the author ofLittle Gray Songs from St. Joseph’swhich is most disappointing. In a poet of Miss Norton’s quality, it is inevitable that there should be always something to repay the reader, but this volume is singularly unrepresentative of Miss Norton’s real powers.

Celtic Memories. By Norreys Jephson O’Conor.(Lane: $1.00 net.) A first volume of some promise by a recent graduate of Harvard, whose Irish feeling is drawn directly from experience, but whose expression is still drawn chiefly from books.

*The Ebon Muse and Other Poems by Léon Laviaux. Englished by John Myers O’Hara.(Smith and Sale: $2.00 net.) Translations from the work of a young Creole poet, glorifying the “fille de couleur” in love poetry of original beauty. Differing from Latin and Oriental passion alike, it reveals a type of feminine beauty which is wholly new to Northern readers.

*An Epilogue To the Praise of Angus and Other Poems. By Seumas O’Sullivan.(Norman, Remington Co.: $.75 net.) A thin sheaf of delicate poems by one of the foremost poets of the New Ireland. Akin in certain aspects of his vision to “Æ,” who does not surpass him, his verses have more singing quality, and he is a successful experimenter in various new verse forms which reproduce cadences in ancient Irish music.

*One Woman to Another, and Other Poems. By Corinne Roosevelt Robinson.(Scribner: $1.25 net.) Dramatic monologues and sonnets of sharply etched lines whose competence is unquestionable, and a more satisfying reality of human feeling than in Mrs. Robinson’s previous volume. The volume will give much intellectual and some emotional pleasure, and in two or three lyrics the poet has achieved high ground.

*Beyond the Breakers, and other Poems. By George Sterling.(Robertson: $1.25 net.) This is Mr. Sterling’s first thoroughly satisfying book. It includes the superb “Ode on the Centenary of the Birth of Robert Browning,” and poems of such importance as “Tidal, King of Nations,” “Willy Pitcher,” “The Mission Swallows,” “Past the Panes,” and “You Never Can Tell.” We must callparticular attention to the vision of the noble ode entitled “Beyond the Sunset.” With less opulent diction and heady imagination than Mr. Sterling’s earlier volumes,Beyond the Breakersshows a disciplined vision expressed with a disciplined technique.

Open Water. By Arthur Stringer.(Lane: $1.00 net) A collection of delicate pictures expressing many frail and drifting moods phrased invers librenot yet quite sure of itself. The volume contains much quiet beauty, and is prefaced by a plea forvers libreof considerable documentary and critical value. A volume which the lover of poetry can scarcely neglect.

Idylls of Greece. Third Series. By Howard V. Sutherland.(Fitzgerald: $1.00 net) Modest idylls of Greek fable telling with some passages of beauty the tales of “Idas and Marpessa,” “Rhodanthe,” “Sappho and Phaon,” and “Œnone.” The blank verse, though not firm, is of well-wrought texture, and Mr. Sutherland expresses feelingly the fleeting beauty of Pagan love and Hellenic landscape. Mr. Sutherland’s three volumes merit more attention than they have received.

The Poems of François Villon. Translated by H. De Vere Stacpoole.(Lane: $1.50 net) A convenient edition of Villon’s best work, in which a reasonably accurate text of the two Testaments and the best of the Ballades and Rondels is printed, together with a running commentary, a vivid introduction, and translations of some of the shorter poems with dubious success. However, the volume is the best popular service to Villon that has yet been performed in this country, and should be on the library shelf.

*Little Verse for a Little Clan. By F.D.W.(Published Privately: Not for Sale.) A slight little volume of thirty-five pages of delicate workmanship, which contain poems that make the book rank among the very best of the year. I know of very few books written by Americans which would afford the pleasure to discriminating readers that this volume would offer were it to be published in a form accessible to all. It is as delicate, at its best, as Beeching and Mackail’sLove in Idleness, and will please all lovers ofA Shropshire Lad. It is just the sort of book which Mr. Mosher used to delight in finding for the American public. I shall be glad to give further information about it to inquirers.

Eris: A Dramatic Allegory. By Blanche ShoemakerWagstaff.(Moffat, Yard, and Co.: $1.00 net.) A short dramatic allegory in which the elements of poetry are present, but which is hardly successful in fusing them into life. There are several pages of genuine poetry which prove the certainty of the poet’s ultimate accomplishment, and much competent craftsmanship. This is an honest book, whose weakness is that the imagination of the reader has no suggestive substance to feed upon.

Justification: A Philosophic Phantasy. By John H. White.(Richard G. Badger: $1.00.) A poem in four short cantos and though philosophic in conception is full of abstract idealisms. The author has a fruitful imagination, but his reasoning on the origin and destiny of human life is profound. The verse, though concrete, is flexible.

*The Collected Poems of Margaret L. Woods.(Lane: $1.50 net.) The definitive edition of the poetry and drama of a great weaver of words and emotion, who unites to much of Lionel Johnson’s repressed sombreness a sustained beauty of musical effect which was characteristic of the earlier poet. Mrs. Woods has performed for Oxford the poetic service that Johnson performed for Winchester, and in other poems has added new immortalities to Westminster Abbey’s crown. The plays are finely wrought and deeply felt, and together with the lyrics, place Mrs. Woods in the authentic English poetic line.

Century—The River. John Masefield.Hope. Oliver Herford.The Poet Rebukes His Flatterers. Fannie Stearns Gifford.To Arms. Louis Untermeyer.The Crucible. Robert Haven Schauffler.To My Baby Hilda. Grace Hazard Conkling.Love’s Lantern. Joyce Kilmer.To My Little Son. Pauline Florence Brower.Menace. George Sterling.On Hans Christian Andersen’s “Snow Queen.” William Rose Benét.The Redwing. Bliss Carman.El Greco Paints His Masterpiece. Thomas Walsh.The Last Shrine. Richard Le Gallienne.The Gaoler. Helen Gray Cone.Summons. Louis Untermeyer.O My Love Leonore. Fannie Stearns Gifford.Three Poplars. Witter Bynner.The Feast of the Gods. William Rose Benét.Landscapes. Louis Untermeyer.Patterns. James Oppenheim.A Handful of Dust. James Oppenheim.We Dead. James Oppenheim.Lights Through the Mist. William Rose Benét.The Flirt. Amelia Josephine Burr.A Birthnight Candle. John Finley.All Souls’ Night. Gertrude Huntington McGiffert.“I Shall Go to Love Again.” Margaret Widdemer.Prinzip. Cale Young Rice.

Harper’s—The Look. Sara Teasdale.Afterward. Charles Hanson Towne.Old Friend. Richard Le Gallienne.The Pool. Mary White Slater.Night Song at Amalfi. Sara Teasdale.Exile. Alice Duer Miller.The Laggard Song. Richard Le Gallienne.A Face at Christmas. Dana Burnet.The Glory of the Grass. Claire Wallace Flynn.Ships. John Masefield.

Scribner’s—Student’s Song. Robert Louis Stevenson.With Walton in Angle-Land. Robert Gilbert Welsh.Reprieve. Charlotte Wilson.Sir John Chandos and the Earl of Pembroke: A Ballad from Froissart. E. Sutton.The Gift of God. Edwin Arlington Robinson.Swimming by Night. Alice Blaine Damrosch.How Spring Comes to Shasta Jim. Henry van Dyke.The Trodden Way. Martha Haskell Clark.Old Fairingdown. Olive Tilford Dargan.The Summons. William Rose Benét.Solace. Walter Malone.In the “Zoo.” George T. Marsh.The Pipes of the North. E. Sutton.The Regents’ Examination. Jessie Wallace Hughan.If You Should Cease to Love Me. Corinne Roosevelt Robinson.Desert Song. John Galsworthy.The Drum. E. Sutton.Another Dark Lady. Edwin Arlington Robinson.

The Forum—The Song of the Women. Florence Kiper.The Song of the Wind. John Allan Wyeth, Jr.Pilgrimage. Laura Campbell.The Cry of Woman. Victor Starbuck.The Man on the Hill-top. Arthur Davison Ficke.Sonnets of a Portrait-Painter, A Sequence (57 Sonnets). Arthur Davison Ficke.Interim. Edna St. Vincent Millay.The Prophet. Lyman Bryson.The Two Flames. Eloise Briton.The Shroud. Edna St. Vincent Millay.The Cardinal’s Garden, Villa Albani. Witter Bynner.Sorrow. Edna St. Vincent Millay.Phi Beta Kappa Poem: Harvard, 1914. Bliss Carman.

The Bellman—The Ancient Sacrifice. Mahlon Leonard Fisher.“Funere Mersit Acerbo.” Ruth Shepard Phelps.At the End of the Road. Madison Cawein.In the Roman Forum. Amelia Josephine Burr.Winner of Second. Witter Bynner.Foretaste. Mahlon Leonard Fisher.The Symbol. Richard Burton.A Lynmouth Widow. Amelia Josephine Burr.The Coquette. Witter Bynner.The Closed Book. Madison Cawein.Jewel-Weed. Florence Earle Coates.Charwomen. James Norman Hall.The Dynamo. Jane Belfield.Sentinels. Witter Bynner.The Master-Poet. Theresa V. Beard.Out of Babylon. Clinton Scollard.To a Phœbe-Bird. Witter Bynner.The Lame Child. Amelia Josephine Burr.The Dead Friend. Margaret Widdemer.The Dear Adventurer. Richard Burton.Idols. Richard Burton.Shakespeare. Witter Bynner.If You Should Tire of Loving Me. Margaret Widdemer.

Smart Set—New York. Edwin Davies Schoonmaker.Old Poets. Joyce Kilmer.Variations on a Classic Theme. Louis Untermeyer.The Ballad of St. John of Nepomuk. George Sterling.The Reporter—An Assignment. Paul Scott Mowrer.Bewilderment. Victor Starbuck.The Hunting of Dian. George Sterling.The Rebuke. John Myers O’Hara.The Friend at Sardis. John Myers O’Hara.Lassitude. John Myers O’Hara.Ablution. John Myers O’Hara.Wine of the World. John Hall Wheelock.The Awakening. Aloysius Coll.The Weed’s Counsel. Bliss Carman.Rarer than Comets. Witter Bynner.Villanelle of Vision. Willard Huntington Wright.Ballad of Two Seas. George Sterling.Manhood. Willard A. Wattles.The Country of the Young. Donn Byrne.The Twelve-Forty-Five. Joyce Kilmer.You Never Can Tell. George Sterling.Pas de Trois. Bliss Carman and Mary Perry King.The Mule Driver. Henry Herbert Knibbs.Narcissus. Robert Bridges.The Poet Returns. Victor B. Neuburg.Consummation. Mahlon Leonard Fisher.Argosies. Victor Starbuck.The Last Demand. Faith Baldwin.He Went for a Soldier. Ruth Comfort Mitchell.Books. Grace Fallow Norton.An Old Maid. Louis Untermeyer.Newport. Alice Duer Miller.The Wind. Victor Starbuck.Sky Battle. Harry Kemp.Mown Fields. Leonard Doughty.

Yale Review—The Dying Pantheist to the Priest. Henry A. Beers.God and the Farmer. Frederick Erastus Pierce.Ash Wednesday. John Erskine.The Mirror. Fannie Stearns Gifford.Young Eden. Witter Bynner.Surety. Witter Bynner.Evening. Charlotte Wilson.Desire of Fame. Charlotte Wilson.The Tramp’s Refusal. Vachel Lindsay.Interval. Lee Wilson Dodd.

Lippincott’s—The Forsaken Seaport. Mahlon Leonard Fisher.The Good Snow-Flake. Richard Kirk.When Darkness Covered the Earth. Caroline Giltiman.Moon-Glint. Jane Belfield.The Winding Lane. Ethel Hallet Porter.Click o’ the Latch. Nancy Byrd Turner.Dawn. Mahlon Leonard Fisher.As Days Go Down the West. Marion Manville.A Coin of Lesbos. Sarah M. B. Piatt

The International—The Anarchist. Zoë Akins.Jasmines. David Morton.To Anna Pavlowa Dancing. Joel Elias Spingarn.The Captive. Blanche Shoemaker Waggstaff.Still-Born. Faith Baldwin.The Garden at Troutbeck. Joel Elias Spingarn.Regret for Atthis. John Myers O’Hara.A Bazaar by the Sea. Witter Bynner.The Fireflies of Sumida. Ethel Morse Pool.In Memoriam: Jean Moréas, 1856-1910. William Aspenwall Bradley.Litany of Nations. William Griffith.The Hailing Trains. Nicolas Beauduin. Trans. by Edward J. O’Brien.Hymn of Toil. Nicolas Beauduin. Trans. by Edward J. O’Brien.To My Love Child. Joseph Bernard Rethy.

The Masses—The Masquerader. Sarah Cleghorn.The Trappers. Wilton Agnew Barret.The Champion. Harry Kemp.Onward Christian Nations. Will Herford.Poor Girl. William Rose Benét.Comrade Jesus. Sarah Cleghorn.Cell-Mates. Louis Untermeyer.Grey. Lydia Gibson.Lost Treasure. Lydia Gibson.The Mother. Lydia Gibson.God’s Blunder. Clement Richardson Wood.A Question. Edmond McKenna.Horses. Elizabeth Waddell.The Drug Clerk. Eunice Tietjens.Prelude. Edmond McKenna.God and the Strong Ones. Margaret Widdemer.Old Glory at Calumet. Joseph Warren Beach.Them and Their Wives. Elizabeth Waddell.

The Trend—Salome. Pitts Sanborn.Vain Excuse. Walter Conrad Arensberg.An Epitaph. Walter Conrad Arensberg.The Puritans. Frank Simonds.The Valley of Silence. Mary Farley Sanborn.To a Garden in April. Walter Conrad Arensberg.Green Orchids for Mænad. Donald Evans.Stars of Paris. Donald Evans.Une Nuit Blanche. Donald Evans.You and Me. Mary Farley Sanborn.To One Defending New York. Walter Prichard Eaton.The Shadows of Desire. Donald Evans.Portrait. Walter Conrad Arensberg.On an Old Guitar. Wallace Stevens.To the Necrophile. Walter Conrad Arensberg.“Six Carried Her Away.” Djuna Chappell Barnes.

The Look. Sara Teasdale.The Pool. Mary White Slater.Exile. Alice Duer Miller.The Laggard Song. Richard Le Gallienne.A Face at Christmas. Dana Burnet.The Glory of the Grass. Claire Wallace Flynn.Ships. John Masefield.New York. Edwin Davies Schoonmaker.The Friend at Sardis. John Myers O’Hara.Ablution. John Myers O’Hara.The Weed’s Counsel. Bliss Carman.Ballad of Two Seas. George Sterling.The Twelve-Forty-Five. Joyce Kilmer.You Never Can Tell. George Sterling.Pas de Trois. Bliss Carman and Mary Perry King.Delicatessen. Joyce Kilmer.Argosies. Victor Starbuck.The Last Demand. Faith Baldwin.He Went for a Soldier. Ruth Comfort Mitchell.An Old Maid. Louis Untermeyer.Newport. Alice Duer Miller.The Wind. Victor Starbuck.The Maid of the Wood. Richard Butler Glaenzer.After Hearing Tschaikowsky. Charles Hanson Towne.The Dying Pantheist to the Priest. Henry A. Beers.God and the Farmer. Frederick Erastus Pierce.Ash Wednesday. John Erskine.The Mirror. Fannie Stearns Gifford.Young Eden. Witter Bynner.Surety. Witter Bynner.Evening. Charlotte Wilson.Desire of Fame. Charlotte Wilson.The Tramp’s Refusal. Vachel Lindsay.Interval. Lee Wilson Dodd.Student’s Song. Robert Louis Stevenson.With Walton in Angle-Land. Robert Gilbert Welsh.Reprieve. Charlotte Wilson.Sir John Chandos and the Earl of Pembroke: A Ballad from Froissart. E. Sutton.The Gift of God. Edwin Arlington Robinson.Swimming by Night. Alice Blaine Damrosch.How Spring Comes to Shasta Jim. Henry van Dyke.The Trodden Way. Martha Haskell Clark.Old Fairingdown. Olive Tilford Dargan.The Pipes of the North. E. Sutton.Song. Glen Ward Dresbach.The Regents’ Examination. Jessie Wallace Hughan.If You Should Cease to Love Me. Corinne Roosevelt Robinson.Desert Song. John Galsworthy.The Drum. E. Sutton.Another Dark Lady. Edwin Arlington Robinson.Cradle Song. Josephine Peabody.Sunset Balconies. Thomas Walsh.The Song of Women. Florence Kiper Frank.The Song of the Wind. John Allan Wyeth, Jr.Pilgrimage. Laura Campbell.The Cry of Woman. Victor Starbuck.The Man on the Hilltop. Arthur Davison Ficke.Sonnets of a Portrait Painter (A Sequence of 57 Sonnets). Arthur Davison Ficke.Interim. Edna St. Vincent Millay.The Prophet. Lyman Bryson.The Two Flames. Eloise Briton.The Shroud. Edna St Vincent Millay.The Cardinal’s Garden, Villa Albania. Witter Bynner.Sorrow. Edna St Vincent Millay.Phi Beta Kappa Poem, Harvard 1914. Bliss Carman.Old Houses. Lisette Woodworth Reese.The River. John Masefield.The Poet Rebukes His Flatterers. Fannie Stearns Gifford.The Crucible. Robert Haven Schauffler.To My Baby Hilda. Grace Hasard Conkling.Love’s Lantern. Joyce Kilmer.To My Little Son. Pauline Florence Brower.Menace. George Sterling.On Hans Christian Andersen’s “Snow Queen.” William Rose Benét.The Redwing. Bliss Carman.El Greco Paints His Masterpiece. Thomas Walsh.Summons. Louis Untermeyer.O My Love Leonore. Fannie Stearns Gifford.The Feasts of the Gods. William Rose Benét.Landscapes. Louis Untermeyer.Patterns. James Oppenheim.Abide the Adventure. James Oppenheim.The Slave. James Oppenheim.The Lonely Child. James Oppenheim.Folk-Hungers. James Oppenheim.Joy of Living. James Oppenheim.A Handful of Dust. James Oppenheim.The Woman Speaks. James Oppenheim.The Man Speaks. James Oppenheim.We Dead. James Oppenheim.Lights Through the Mist. William Rose Benét.The Flirt. Amelia Josephine Burr.A Birthnight Candle. John Finley.All Souls’ Night. Gertrude Huntington McGiffert.“I Shall Go to Love Again.” Margaret Widdemer.Prinzip. Cale Young Rice.The Forsaken Seaport. Mahlon Leonard Fisher.The Good Snow-Flake. Richard Kirk.When Darkness Covered the Earth. Caroline Giltinan.Moon-Glint. Jane Belfield.The Winding Lane. Ethel Hallet Porter.Click o’ the Latch. Nancy Byrd Turner.Dawn. Mahlon Leonard Fisher.As Days Go Down the West. Marion Manville.A Coin of Lesbos. Sarah M. B. PlattThe Ancient Sacrifice. Mahlon Leonard Fisher.“Funere Mersit Acerbo.” Ruth Shepard Phelps.At the End of the Road. Madison Cawein.In the Roman Forum. Amelia Josephine Burr.Winner of Second. Witter Bynner.Foretaste. Mahlon Leonard Fisher.The Symbol. Richard Burton.A Lynmouth Widow. Amelia Josephine Burr.The Coquette. Witter Bynner.The Closed Book. Madison Cawein.Jewel-Weed. Florence Earle Coates.Charwomen. James Norman Hall.The Dynamo. Jane Belfield.Sentinels. Witter Bynner.Out of Babylon. Clinton Scollard.To a Phoebe-Bird. Witter Bynner.A Round. Florence Earle Coates.The Dear Adventurer. Richard Burton.Idols. Richard Burton.Shakespeare. Witter Bynner.The Anarchist. Zoë Akins.Jasmines. David Morton.The Exeter Road. Amy Lowell.Regret for Atthis. John Myers O’Hara.The Fireflies of Sumida. Ethel Morse Pool.In Memoriam: Jean Moréas, 1856-1910. William Aspenwall Bradley.Litany of Nations. William Griffith.The Town in Rut. Nicolas Beauduin (tr. by Edward J. O’Brien).The Hailing Trains. Nicolas Beauduin (tr. by Edward J. O’Brien).Modern Heaven. Nicolas Beauduin (tr. by Edward J. O’Brien).Hymn of Toil. Nicolas Beauduin (tr. by Edward J. O’Brien).To My Love Child. Joseph Bernard Rethy.The Crimson Rain. John Myers O’Hara.Hybla. John Myers O’Hara.Funeral Epigram. John Myers O’Hara.Messalina. John Myers O’Hara.Cell Mates. Louis Untermeyer.Grey. Lydia Gibson.Lost Treasure. Lydia Gibson.The Mother. Lydia Gibson.A Question. Edmond McKenna.Horses. Elizabeth Waddell.The Drug Clerk. Eunice Tietjens.Prelude. Edmond McKenna.Them and Their Wives. Elizabeth Waddell.

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