The Arkansaw traveler., 1885-03-21

subjects of some are not pleasing, but the poetry suhlimises them. The Leper " Is one of these:
 Room for the lsperi Room! And as he The cry passed on; Room for the lspsr Koom."
 There arc touches of Shakespearean power:
 "How like mounting devil in the heart Rules the unreined ambigion.n The quality of his verse is expressed in the poem to " Spring." beginning: The spring is here, the delicate footed Nay, | With it's sneht fingers full of leaves aAd howers.h
 The picture poem entitled Chamber Scene" beginning "She rose from her untroubled sleep And put away her soft, brown hair, And, in a tone as low and deep As loves hrs, whisper, brea,hed prayer," Is exqusitely told. and has this bit of dainty imagery: "Escaped a bare and slender feet, Whose shape upon the earth did press Like a new snow flake, white and mute. ." Some of his finest poems were exples- sions of personal interest, such as the we'll known one " To Laura B., Two Years of Age:"
 Bright be,the skies that cover thee, Child of the sunny brow" It has been said of N. P. Willis that he | was the only poet who ever carried the fervor and sublimity of bible narrative into poetry without losing its divine glow of inspiration.
 The living poet-brother has not written for either bread or fame, but simply to express the inherited poesy of his nature in the numbers which these children of genius lisped in the nursery. have pre- viously quoted from his volume ofpoems entitled :" Pen and Lute," published a year ar two ago in Detroit. The initial number is a class poem, or rather an oc. tave of poems, called Hazing." There is humor in the composition, especially in the adventure of the poets "lute un- dei the window of his inamorata, which seemed to be appreciated By none except surly dog" No sweet bouquet from lattice thrown, Or feeling note still warmer,
 But sudd eniy voice with brogue, Flew out a window dormer.
 "Tho' far-r the folks and lonesome quite, Me healt for music yearns, sr.r,
 Yer banjo seems fatigued-gooc night, And many happy returns, sir-r." "Snow Flowers is the fortunate title of a cluster of poems dedicated to discon- solate friends. The first is written to the | memory of a student of the Michigan University: Dark of all thy shadows, O, thou sad and solemp Lent, Chill through the casemen, Comes the winds lament" Mir. Willis includes in his poetry some religious verse which breathes the ex- slted spirit of his adopted religion, the Roman Catholic faith. These are en,i- tied meditativc and devotional song. One especially fne closes with this beau tiful verse:
 | "Ne'er traveler's lips confirmed it, Yet 'tIs writ in promise fair l Staff and scrip have long been ready, I've the heart to journey there"
 "Domine Asperges Me-" is a grand penitential hymn.
 MT. Willis is in receipt of personal let ters from George William Curtis, Oliver Wendell Holmes and other distinguished friends, commendatery of the quality of his poems. In speaking of the little book Mir. Curtis says: It is full of delicate and airy music and of tender feeling."
 | Mir Holmes writes: thank you very heartily for your beautiful book, which 1 have been reading with much pleasure, from the gaieties of the first page to the solemnities of the last. 1 hope may yet have the privilege of seeing you again and talking over those early days of mine. We must have many remembrances in common"
 Mir. Willis intends preparing a; ss early day a series of articles for the mag azines retrospective of departed great ness, with which he has held familiar in- tercourse. Among these will be Long, fellow, Bayard Tayler, his brother, N. P. Willis, Hawthorne and others. The re- fined atmosphere of his social life has long been his native air, but his grand physique is still unimpaired, nor has the
 fine purple and wine of life enervated his literary powers. The aroma of the past
 which fingers about him sheds a mellow. ing effect upon all who come within its influence. It is as if Father Time him. self held the rose-colored lamp of faith to guide the feet of the poet-singer to the full measure of his days. The Devils Sonata. l Old Magazine Tartini dreamed one night that he had