New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1898-11-19
MISS HELEN HAYS POEMS.
AN UNPREMEDITATED STRAIN OF
STRENGTH AND CHARM.


There is nothing more engaging about MISS
HAYS verse than its originality. The tone Is
enforced Not only in it's brevity. but in the
fitness and freshness Of each note struck within
ts scale this collection Of poems impresses us
as having formed itself naturally out OF sincere
feeling and a spontaneous impulse 10 say some
thing rather than out OF any love Of metrical
exercises for their own sake. Such an unpre-
meditated strain is always rare. but 1t is rarest
of all in first books of poetry which give US dc
a rule small substance and much art M'ss
Hay has art. but she also has emotion anu
sensitive imaginative way OF looking al 'h'ies'
Hence her themes-derived in the hrs' pi'''
from a sympathetic outlook upon Ire ana nav
ure, and from an eager appreciation OF inc
beauty in both-suppy not only the occasion
but the vitality Of her verse. ana she seouiee
perfect unity of matter and style "i'"ess '"e
following poem which seems 10 us TO reach
high level in its fusion OF fehc'ouS iue" VIZ"
yividly pictorial language:
Mist on the sea- like a great birds penduious
Broken and hushed 1t trails on the face OF the
Down comes the sun. red shot from mercitui
Burning It's heart with swift death as an end
10 the pain.
~. na-,adins mood Of the book is not inaptly
illustrated by this poem with its quick response
>o ,hs sweet melancholy underlying so many OF
natures loveliest phenomena. Such mood
embraces. obviously multitude OF Keys win
Miss Hay 1t seems to provoke an intonaIion
which, II melancholy is at the same Time tehuei
and without too urgent pathos. mus IN ."e
lines addressed ITO D" there is disclosed
co,sc,ousness OF the burden OF mystery. but no
surrender to bitterness in its presence
Rroad.hrowed beneath cloud Of dusky hair
Her eyes are midnight seas that never Steep
But see beyond the dull worlds heavy air
The mystery OF ages buried deep
The faint sweet shadows trembling round hef
1sshten with youth and love the sphinxs face.
And as she moves soft wind from the south
Floating fower-laden seems so sweet ner
grace.
Aloof she stands from idle mirth and tears,
And keeps the white sails OF her spirit furled'
Altho' girl. pure from the stain OF yessS'
An ancient Egypt, smiling al the world
In the same spirit Of serenity. at once poie-
nant in its clear recognition of the tragedy IN
the subject and impersonal in its resignation
20 the futity Of specializing about It's last sis-
nifcance. the Trees of the Wilderness is
written.
The great bleak trees stand up against the sky
Lifting their naked arms In ceaseleSs prayer
To the unpitying heavens that they might die
Rather than drag their weary lives out 'here'
rhro, starless nights the untold hours wear on
All awful phantom shapes alright the wood.
And morning light but brings the unwnkng
To torture with its glare their solitude.
In those grim wilds no sweet-voiced bird will
No flowers will bloom Within such trackless
lands ,..l
Nor is there trace Of any living thing .,o,r
Save those gaunt giants. holding up their
hands.
And when they fall. stu round the unknown
Howls the rough wind TIL in the common
ground
They end the life which is, and yet is not,
a riddle where no meaning snail be FOUND
From the examples We have, cited It will be
seen that Miss Hay is sure and eloquent in her
choice Of epthets. On occasion her easy COM
nand over verbal color leads 10 touch brilliant
but not absolutely convincing. The occasions.
however. are few In number few that they
are scarcely perceived and the readers conf
dence in her discreet OF her voca bulary re-
mains mistaken. She draws upon II not only
with taste but with feeling. 1t Is rich. and
the warm picturesqueness which 1t communi-
Gates to the verse makes think. sometimes.
OF Rossettfs jewelled, glowing lines. What is
most important Of all. Miss Hay seizes by IN
stinct the music In a phrase, and her verse is
genuinely lyrical. This which is delightful
enough in her treatment Of the more elastic
forms is peculiarly pleasing in her sonnets The
vain efforts Of scores Of our contemporary
singers have prepared us TO expect inertia in
that fateful collection Of fourteen lines. yet we
end lvrical In Miss HAYS
sonnets. especially in the following
A wOMAN's PRIDE.
will not look for him. Will not hear
My hearts loud beating, as ! strain TO see
Across the rain forlorn and hopelessy,
Nor starting think It's he that draws so near.
I will forget how tenderly and dear
He might in coming hold his arms 70 me.
For will prove what wonnans pride can be
When faint love fingers in the darkness dTear
will not--ah. but should he come tonight.
! think my life might break thro' very bliss.
This little will should SO be torn apart
That all my soul might fail in golden light
And let me die: do long for this
All love, thine eyes Nay love-thy heart
thy heart,
We would like 10 quote also the melodous
days 70 Come" the decately passionate In
the Mist" the rich. sonorous Autumn" with its
spirited opening
The rudy banners of the autumn leaves
Toss out challenge 10 the waiting SHOWS
butthese would leave us TOO little space for two
Of the most poetic and most beautiful things In
the book The first is this terse but supple poem
OF interrogation
WAS THERE ANOTHER SPRING.
Was there another spring than this?
! half remember through the haze
OF glimniering nights and golden days
4 broken pinioned birdng's note.
An angry sky. sea-wrecked boat.