New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1899-08-13

| cedes 1t and comes after; still what we like
about this singer Is not his singing, but the sim
cere delight which he obviously experiences as
he rambes in his favorite scenes. He knows
them well. is up" in his botany, and is sensi-
tive enough to the charms Of Natures palette to
| transfer worthily something of her color to his
pages. The thing that depresses is that Mr..
| Cawein should write so much and so ceverly
without ever quite uttering the full and haunt
| ing note which would acclaim him an authentic
| poet
The figures on which the Imagination of Miss
Martha Gilbert Dickinson dwells in within the
Hedge" are a little startling. She lifts her
eyes to
Where groups of mountain pines lift low
Their duslty forms like mosques against the
Above whose domes the lonely crow
Keeps Autumn VOWS in mystic circles high
We have perhaps been less fortunate than
Miss Dickinson, but must protest that we
never detected mountain pines, singly or in
groups looking like mosques. And what does
this writer mean by presenting vision of the
barge of Cleopatra drifting across the summer
sky,
Guided by swaying wraiths bowed biow-wise,
Walked 10y pursuivant forms of stcalthy hordes
in Roman SuSe?
/ This is not all however, that Miss Dickinson
can do Under the title of Summers VIII" she
draws up the last testament of the departing
season. 1t is all unconsciously drol but the
climax is the best:
/ Sealed IN witch hazel, filed IN frost,
To the witnessing winds twas all but tossed.
When she smiled a gcntlan COdicl
My love 10 the roadside under the hlll!'
Candidly. Miss Dickinson would better try
again
The titul1r poem in Miss Sewalrs book. "An
ode to Girlhood and Other Poems" is more am
bilious than successful. There is spon-
taneity and more appropriateness in some OF
the short devotional poems and songs OF things
, in nature. With the exception OF the first two
lines, THE Butterfly" contains some graceful
work:
am not what was yesterday,
God knows my name.
am made in a smooth and beautiful way,
And full Of flame.
The color OF corn are my pretty wings
MY flower Is blue.
j kiss its topmost pearl. II Swings,
And swing too.
dance above the tawny grass
In the sunny air,
So tantalzed to have TO pass
Love everywhere.
O Earth, Sky, you are mine to roam
In liberty.
I am the soul, and have home;
Take care Of me.
| There are eight or nine more verses, but we
! need not quote them in order to show that II
the author is not particularly musical she can
at least put her little cOncets together in
passable manner. Prose and pretension are in
| geniously kept just at arms length throughout
| this volume.
| The poems Of the late Edward Rowland Sill
suggest a refined and mcditative nature visited
by pure and peaceful thoughts and moved to
utter them in quiet strains The two volumes
! by him published some years ago left a very
| favorable impression. and there VIII be gen
ial If not enthusiastic welcome for the third
collection now brought out under the title OF
! 'Hcrmione and Other Poems" He had tender
ness and the power to put it into his work with
out weakness, as may be seen from The Coup
de Grace" which quote intact
If were very
That all was over betWixt you and mo
That while this endless absence | endure
! With but one mood. one dream, one misery
OF waiting you were happier to be free
Then I might find again
Tn cloud and stream and all the winds that blow
| Yea even in the faces Of my fellow men.
The old companiOnship; and might know
once more the pulse of action ere go.
| But now I cannot rest
While this one pleading, querulous tone without
Breaks in and mars the music In my breast
! l open the closed door-lo, all about
What seem your lingering footprints; then i
doubt
Waken me from this sleep
Strike fearless let the naked truth edge CLEAN!
| For while the beautiful old past keep
| I am a phantom, and all mortals seem
But phantoms and my life fades as dream