The Fargo forum and daily republican. [volume] (Fargo, N.D.) 1894-1957, 1912-05-08
QUALITY MEN ADMIRE.
Woman Who, Like the Moon, Shines
by Reflected Light Alone.

by Reflected Light Alone
New York Evening World: THE
moon is more to a poet than any
woman"
Richard LeGallienne wrote it-wrote
it and maintained it in the most moon
struck interview that ever poet utter
ed or scribe set down.
Treason" / said accusingly to the
erstwhile worshipper of woman; "trea-
son in the name of the thousands Of
women who have seen or will see The
Loves of the Poets and will read of
your apostasy with their own eyes"
And Mr.. LeGallienne, seeker of the
Golden Girl. who broke a lance with
William Watson over The Woman
With the Serpent's Tongue and more
recently with Rudyard Kipling over
The Female of the Species, answered
firmly: IF this be treason, make the
most of it."
THE moon is the perpetual sweet
heart of the poet" Mr.. LeGallienne
continued. she has many phases,
many manifestations and he may adj
mire them all without getting into
trouble. For the moon is not a jeal-
Ol6 illOOAls w OtAloAAt AS"t "SAAANtA $50
moon Of beauty, is not apt to under
stand that the poet feels the influence
of her rays wherever they fall. Woman
must be sun, moon, and stars-or
nothing. The moon is much more lib
eral minded and the moon is SAFE"
Then perhaps you've adopted the
moon for a sweetheart as part of the
general process Of settling DOWN. !
said.
Perhaps, though the mon is held to
be rather unsettling," the poet an
swered.
Whether it be the influence of the
moon or of the new and lovely Mrs,
LeGallienne, there's no doubt that the
author of The Loves of the Poets has
settled down near Rowarton, Conn.
At the foot of a water tower in ar
abandoned engine house on Buffers
island, Mr.. LeGallienne has set up his
workshop. And there spends the en-
tire day writing poems and reviews
and essays or Matching tributes to the
moon and Treason against womankind
The workshop is crowded with books
and butter flies, dead butterflies, gor-
geous and futile as the poems so many
OF us mourn-the little sisters of Mr.
LeGallienne's muse in the LAND of UNI
born poems. There is a queer wood
land shelf made of a golden brown
fungus found on one of the lean trees
Of Buffers island, and on it rests one
Of many portraits OF Mrs. LIE G~allienne
which adorn the workshop.
Facing Long Island sound and com
p~anioning the lonesome winter trees
the little workshop suggests a sort OF
oratory Of Pan. and the inscribed tab
let at the door completes the illusion
with this line from Virgil, Happy ht
who knows the rural gods, Pan anc
Sylvanus, and the sister nymphs."
OF course, / had always known MI
LeGallienne to be the most noon
struck of poets. From the beginning
| he had sought to express woman IL
| terms OF the noon. He may have
caught the trick from Omar Khayyam
At any rate, during the course Of hi
impeachment on the charge of higl
treason to his old love, woman. man!
lines froh tie LeGallienne version o
The Ruhaiyat rose and testified agains
him.
Comparisons are one thing, prefer
enees another. While Mr., LeGallienn'
admits that some men, not poets, ma,
prefer women to the moon, he say
that what all men admire in woman !
her moon quality"
Woman is the moon of man, soft
mysterious. consoling,' the poet sale
"Tender-sad. Remember that beauti
full line Of Sir Phillip Sydney's, witt
how sad steps. Oh, moon, thou climbs
the SKYE Like clouds about the moo
are a woman's flowing draperies,'' h
added.
The poet admires the clouds, tn
misty chiffons, the wind blown silks
but he loves the moon just as much |
her simpler phases, her dimity gowns
Don't you agree with me that mar ad
mires the moon quality in woman? n
Eyes, but not for the same reasons
LII replied. Man admires the moo
woman because his ideal of her is the
OF a satellite. drawing all her light an
warmth from him, revolving about th
great central sun Of her universe
himself. without the suns light whs
Is the moon? A region of frozen noun
tains and parced c~anals-cold. dea,
cherries without his love. That
what the moon woman seems. IL not |
the poet, than to the average man."
ITO me now~-the average man
very much Of a poet in his feelings fc
woman. Woman Is a mystery to ever
man-sometimes a very practical niys
terry, or course. But then--that's wom
an, mysterious In her purposes, prst
teal, horrible practical In her metl
DDS.