The age-herald., 1901-09-01
MRS. FINCH TO PRINT
 POEMS IN BOOK FORM
BY ANNIE KENDRlcK WALKER.

The announcement that Mrs. Julia Nicely Finch of Birmingham contem- plates bringing out her verses in book form some time during the winter will be received with pleasure wherever her poems have been read. Mrs. Finch has long been urged by her friends to collect her verses and sketches that have been appearing for years in the leading mag. azines and papers in a little volume, for the popularity Of her poems has fndicat- ed her hold upon the literary world and .she has had every encouragement that would lead her into collecting her verses and giving them to the world that they have reached in fragments of melody that have made the world eager for the entire song.
 When Stedman included Mrs. Finch's poem, '-The Unborn" in his collection Of poems, that distinction was sufficient proof that she had won a distinguished place among the poets of America, and she has enjoyed other honors and met with qual1y as notable recognition. AL together the delay in even considering the advantage of publishing her poems in book form has been her own indifference to popular demand, an indifference that was born of her great sorrow in the loss of her young son, Sergeant Philip Neely Finch of the First Alabama Regiment, and one of the bravest and handsomest young officers who volunteered to go to the front during the Spanish-American war. Since his death the thousands who had come to read every line that was from. the pen of his mother have been conscious that the exquisite poems that she has continued to contribute to the papers and magazines have been marked with tenderer pathos and deeper feel- ing than those written before this sor- row touched her heart. Even the m1i- lions who see her verses and know her only by name must read between the lines and know that memory or other days inspires the tenderest thoughts, the uplifting ideas that characterize her poems. But 1t Is the peculiar rythm that distinguishes Mrs. Fmch's verses quite as much as the pathos In poetry this quail ity Is what a lullaby is in music. It ap- peals to you like no other quality and fascinates you by its very quaintness, It's grace the true poetic beauty.
 Take Mrs. Finch's 'TWithin the Woods" Every line suggests the fluttering bough, a swerling brook. the twitter of birds, the hush of woodland, and yet there Is the undercurrent, that swinging, rhyth> mic quality that is as much music as poetry.
 ssWtthin a glade of forest shade A brooklet twirls and furls, And cool, grey rocks In marshaled flocks AHalra addvinQ c1lrlS and SWirlS. There the broirdered braid Of sunshine laid
 On the leaf of the wavelet's crest Or the sweep of its swelling breast. Down to it's edge the gay brown sedge Doth lean with banners green; There daisies show Like stars of snow Set thick on an emerald green. The violet
 All dewey wet
 Peeps out from It's crowding leaves, Where the moss. lily drapery weaves. There nests hang high twixt earth and
 sky
 And birdlings stir and whir
 Their lulling strains
 And gay refrains
 Ascend from each chorister;
 There echoes sigh,
 And light wings ny Der the crest of the dew-kissed hills Where the zest of the sunshine spills. ..The blossoms briught gleam thro' the
 night
 In light of moonbeams white And honeyed vines
 Lift chaliced wines
 To the bees in their homeward flight The breezes blow
 With rhythmic flow Fhrough the leaves with murmuring
 tune To the sound of the brooklet's croon."
 Everything that Mrs. Finch writes IS full of that subtle charm that Is inde- finable, as if she had been shaken by mood. a moment when some passing emotion had struggled to find expression in song or story. To those who are ia miliar with her poems it will not be surprise to learn that Mrs. Finch Is musician for her verses contain so much of the musical quality that she might have laid her soul beside her copy. Her emotional and poetic temperament finds expression in her music, and when that fails her she turns to her desk. My own heart" she said recently, feels the ne- cessity for something that takes my thoughts from the irrevocable things of life The things that cruelty continually all bright and hopeful life of the heart" The memory of her boy is ever with her.
 And yet, like all writers, she confesses that she has moods when she truly feels that she will never again put pen to paper for publication.
 Mrs Finch considers "The Unborn" to he her finest poem. It was pronounced hy Charles Dudley Warner and other critics as deserving of place among the poetic classics. In addition to her
 of, hoe charming stories which have appeared from time to time in the papers and mag azines. Her poems are widely copied and every line that she contributes to the press adds to her reputation as one or the sweetest and tenderest writers of verse of any of the latter day poets. Some
 of her love songs are as exquisite as those of Ella Wheeler Wilcox, and Mrs. Finch may be said to be to the Southern press