New-York tribune., 1916-07-22

D GmOllO0
rather than as a consequence. She sue
cessfully saturates us in the mysterious
melancholy of London, but she is more
appealing in her French studies, fol
here her insight is born Of profound
affection. We quote from France, oi
a Stranger:
j All the lines Of hills unfolded,
/ all the drfted lines of mountains,
/ and the quiet lines Of valleys
opening away to dream;
/ Of the fields clear travelling shadows
| and forests darkening;
of the roofs Of little houses,
/ and the church tower lifted up
| for the twittering, wheeling swallows;
/ all the soaring line of cypress,
I high above the castle turretS;
ali the lines of roads and rivers,
/ leading deep to dreamed-of places;
this means my France for me.
And old small cities,
with their lives and hours
closed away by amber walls
and sunken deep in ivy; 90,
where bats fit through the crumbhng
streets,
blurred soft with moss and hchen,
and gold-eyed lizards sleep
on rampant stones.
Little cities, dim with story,
lives and days and dreams,
down long distances of story;
this means my France for me-
This Is appealing, and there are
other poems and passages equally goou'
but as a whole the book suners iroin
monotony Of method. The author un-
doubtedly gets her effects, but sne is
too long about it. And she overworks
repetition and refrain. We wish she
would occasionally use other devices Oh
formal poetry and relinquish these
Roth Of these books are worth atten-
tion. not only for what they achleVe'
hut also for what they attempt. Ihey
MANAGE 70 keep their heads above water
- .Se sea of free verse which deluges
US at present. 1.c;ets nv
the way. that free verse is haroer W
write than formal poetry, is somewhat
belied bv this rising food and by the
raritv Of GOOD verse of the ola oroer;
We are grateful for Sara TeasdaIe anu :,
for her latest book, "Rivers TO the sea:
The iov of lovely thought, well sung, ID
too precious to be passed over Hgh'iy'
W. have seen Miss Teasdale hailed IN
nrint as the modern Sappho, an eplthe.
rs uniting and ridiculous as tna'
which calls Masefeld the Homer OF 10.
Sav Nevertheless, the simplicity C
W;ss Teasdale's method and language
oives her work a distinction that uh-
Soubtedlv recalls the classic lyrlclsts'
Reluctantly we limit ourselves 10 ohe
quotation, Leaves:
One by one, like leaves from tree
All my faiths have forsaken me-
But the stars above my heao
Rnrn in white and delicate red,
And beneath my feet the earth
brings the sturdy grass to birth.
who was content TO be
But silken-singing tree,
But rustic of delight
In the wistful heart of night
have lost the leaves that knew
Touch of rain and weight OF dew
Blinded by leafy crown
| looked neither up nor down
But the little leaves that die
Have left me room to see the SKY;
Now for the first time know
Stars above and earth below.
We must also mention, in passing, the
two Christ poems and register our
thanks that the three long poems on
Sannho are here collected, for their
blank verse is unusually melodious and
satisfying. The author has not escaped
tbe preyalent microbe. She includes m
This volume several essays in free verse.
Is il. we wonder, their form that makes
them so much more like other people
work. so much less like the delightful
and individual expression Of Sara Teas
dale?
Wilfrid Wilson Gibson's Battle and
Other Poems" is divided into three dis
tinct parts. The last, which we men
tion first to get it out Of the way, is a
group of dramatic poems written IN
1905 in the same vein as much OF CID
sons earlier work dealing with tragic
moments in the life of simple folk. We
confess we are little tired OF THESE
dialogues of Mr.. Gibson. lie has struck
tbe same chord too often. We are, there
fore. most unreservedly glad for the two
other parts of the book, the one con-
tanning his war poems, the other, snort
lyrics on various themes and some eX-
celIent sonnets. The war poems are
brief. poignant songs, most or them
purporting TO be written by common
soldiers at the front, in which Mr.. Glib
/ sons knowledge of simple people Is
condensed into small compass with pro-
| found emotional effect. Here is one
called "The Question;
I wonder if the old cow died or not
Gev bad she was the night / left, and
sick.
Dick reckoned she would mend. He
knows lot
At least he fancies so himself, does
Dick.
Dick knows a lot But maybe / did
wrong
To leave the COW to him and come away
over and over like silly song
These words kept humming in my head
all day.
And all I think Of, as face the foe
And take my lucky chance of being shot
Is this-that if Pm hit, III never know
Till Doomsday if the old COW died oil
not.