New-York tribune., 1911-03-05

edition of his verse and prose, which the
Iongmans are bringing out under inc
editorship Of his daughter. something Is
being done for Morris which ne Wouiu
scarce have had the judgment to 90 1or
himself. The -Lelmscott books are OBJ
iects of decorative art, 10 be priced Tor
their indvidualized character ana thelr
rarity. The present volumes. beautiful
IN every detail, are first and last meant
TO be read.
II would be hard TO beat them. Paper
end type are perfect. In shape, size and
weight these volumes give the reader
ease and give him pleasure. Charming
10 look upon they are, too, with their
sides Of light blue boards their linen
backs and their paper labels. The Illus
trations, portraits, views facsimiles, ana
so on, have been flawlessly made. And
In the introductions Miss Morris is as
delicate. as tactful. in her Interpretation
of her fathers spirit as she is workman
like in the exposition of changes made
In his writings and similar matters.
There is sentiment in her pages, but
there is no mawkishness. In short,
Norris here receives a tribute which
would have warmed his soul, and for
which every one of those readers who
cherish his genius is bound TO be CRATE
ful.
Moving in leisurely fashion through
the old familiar poems-for if Norris
holds us anywhere he holds us in his
earlier writings-One muses. on the con-
stituents Of that genius, and especially
on the seeming paradox implicated in
the particular virtue through which he
survives He was all for romance and
the world we'll lost When his facility
ran away with him this passion gave to
his verse too much Of the character of
stained glass or tapestry. There is no
denying that Morris wrote quantities, OF
merely wordy stuff. If he did not decline
upon fat affectation, he at all events
not infrequently substituted rhetorical
glamour for the burning substance Of
true poetry But Morris in his best
estate. bursts through the fustian of a
self-conscious medi8Valism. Then he Is
5ust an intensely human creature, writ
ing with artless fervor Of human things
The romantic drama that he gives us is
the drama Of living men and women.
Miss Morris quotes a good observation
by Andrew Lang, who in his college
cays knew "The Defense OF Guenevere"
almost by heart. I'VE found Frois-
sart's people alive again." he says, "in
MIR. Morris's poems, and we knew better
what thoughts and emotions lay in the
secret OF their hearts than we could
learn from the bright superficial pages
of Froissart." That was about half a
century ago, but we dare say that Mr..
Lang could repeat his testimony now.
There are poems by Morris, say, 1.-THE
Haystack in the Flood" or shameful
Death" which wear surprisingly well.
II Is hard TO shake off the sense of
things artificial which is excited by so
much in his career: after wandering
with him through enchanted, Old World
forests It is almost disconcerting 10
emerge into the full, clear light of day
and for a moment one refuses to believe
that that light is real. But presently
you are convinced, Tor MS cmotlon rlnBs
true, and you sympathize with his peo-
pie Of the days of chivalry and terror as
you sympathize with fellow mortal In
,our own humdrum time. Let us turn
TO one Of the poems Just mentioned:
SHAMEFUL DEATH.
There were four OF us about that bed;
The mass priest knelt at the side,
I and his mother stood at the head,
over his feet lay the bride;
we were quite sure that he was dead'
Though his eyes were open WIDE
GIe did not die In the night.
He did not die in the day,
But in the morning twilight
His spirit pass'd away, ,.A.
When neither sun nor moon was DfIBhI
And the trees were merely grey
a,e was not slain with the sword,
knights axe, or the knightly spear
Vet spoke he never a word
VAfter he came in here: