The times., 1898-09-11

same size and there the resemblance ends
and the contrast begins. Where Doyle
gives US sound and action and the wind
and sun in our faces, Roberts suggests
darkness and GOODNESS, the glimmer OF
stars and the mysterious scent of night
blooming flowers. 1t would be really
worth ones while TO buy the two books
simply for the way in which they bring
out each others good points. The oldest
thing in thes contrast is that In Doyle's
daylight verse there are almost no word
pictures, while Roberts poems of the
night are full of them.
But, laying the comparative merits of
the two books aside, the chief beauty of
these New York Nocturnes" is their deli
cate imagery and subtlety of thought.
Here for instance, is a picture OF 'Twi-
light Sixth Avenue" which is worth
quoting entire
Over the tops OF the house
Twilight and sunlight meet.
The green, diaphanous dusk
Sinks to the eager street.
Astray in a tangle of roofs
Wanders wind OF June.
The dial shines in the clock-tower
Like the face of a strangescrawled moon.
The narrowing lines OF the houses
Palely begin to CLEAN,
And the hurrying crowds fade softly
Like army in dream.
Above the vanishing faces
phantom train flares
With voice that shakes the shadows
Dlminishes, and is gone.
And l walk with the journeying throng
In such solitude
As when lonely ocean
Washes lonely wood.
M
forced to live in the city amid uncongeni-
al surroundings know that there come
days when all the country sights and
sounds are remembered with a vivfdness
that they could never have had without
that deprivation. Something of this ex-
perience is shadowed in Mr.. Roberts
book when. in "The IDEAL" he says:
The cty's clamor died in calm,
And again / heard
The moon-white woodland stillnesses
Enchanted by bird
The wash OF far remembered waves;
The sigh of lapsing streams;
And old gardens lilac leaves
Conferring in their dreams.
There are flashes of poetic insight here
and there embodied in phrases which are
perfect, as when the writer speaks of the
street as "a grim canon, carved in the
stream. Any one who has walked through
city thoroughfare in the early hours of
the morning knows what a strange still
ness peryades the place. 1t is as If there
never had been, nor would be, any more
life in it. This notion Mr.. Roberts has
caught and fixed in phrase. like an in
sect in amber. The book is fun OF such
evanescent bits of fancy-thoughts which
every one has had but few have put into
words
After the "Nocturnes' come other po-
ems, some of which have the breath of
the woods in them. The spirit OF one
who knows and loves nature breathes in
these. Mr.. Roberts may have brought TO
the city the keen insight and poetic fan
cy of one bred in the wilds, SO that he
sees more in the ordinary sights and
sounds of that human maelstrom than
do other people, but IL is In the woods
that he is in his element. sweet IA
miliarity with woodland creatures.
quick observation, an aptness OF phras-
ing is to be found in his wood-songs.
Notice this:
And the shy bear, -sleekened,
In the bFacken makes his bed.
Or this:
When winter scourged the meadow and the hill
And in the withered LEAKAGE worked his will
The water shrank, and shuddered, and stood
still
Then built himself magic house OF glass
Irised with memories of flowers and grass,
Wherein to sit and watch the fury pass.
The book is not great, but II is genuine
and wholesome in every line, and that is
much. in these days of minor poets and
imitation greatness. (Boston: Lamson.
Wolfe & Coz