are many persons who do not believe in it and many more who wish they did not and could get rid of the bother of it. a But when education becomes not only part and parcel of the life of the people, but a thing that they have all profited bything that underlies life as the soil underlies the growth in the garden- then education becomes cheap and easy. Nobody asks what it costs, nobody questions its benefits, nobody harbours a doubt about it. In one case the community grudgingly supports its schools as a burden. In the other case, the schools build the community. And this is the lesson of Northwood. LATTER-DAY POETS THE amount of very creditable poetry, especially from the point of view of technique, that is being written in America to-day is a phenomenon not infrequently commented upon by critics, but apparently not often borne in mind by the reading public. To this latter-day poetry the South is contributing her full share, as seems proved by the selections that follow. The names of the late John Henry Boner, of Mr. Cawein, of Dr. Peck, of "Father Tabb," of Mrs. Dandridge, of Mr. Frank Stanton, of Mr. Robert Burns Wilson, and other Southern poets are known outside their section; but there are not a few Southern writers of verse worthy to bear them company whose work, for one reason or another, is not widely known, in some cases not even well known in the South itself. To include specimens of all these poets is obviously impossible; but of them all the editor may say, as he has done of contemporary American poets in general, that "criticism of their work is not so important as a cordial recognition of the service they render the cause of pure literature by their devotion to the art they have felt called to pursue. Such devotion, praiseworthy in any age, is particularly worthy of honor and emulation in a period when the rewards of popularity and pecuniary gains go in increasing measure to the purveyors of what is most aptly denominated light literature. It is proper enough that poetry should be its own reward, it is right and natural enough that it should no longer hold its prestige over prose, since it has ceased to deal with life in a large, universal way. But these facts do not excuse the utter indifference of thousands to an art that has never before been more gracefully or more reverently practised, nor should they lessen our gratitude to the artists who pursue their ideals, although deprived in a considerable measure of that pub lic sympathy which was as the breath of life to the master singers of the past. It is not to be believed that sympathy with our poets will ever become extinct among us; but it is well to remind ourselves that permanent excellence is not to be expected of any art the existence of which is merely tolerated by the general public." 1 JOHN BANISTER TABB [BORN in Amelia County, Virginia, March 22, 1845. He served on a blockade runner during the Civil War, and was kept seven months in Point Lookout prison, where he became a friend of Sidney Lanier (q.v.). He began to teach and write verses in 1872. In 1884 he printed privately a volume of poems, was ordained a priest in the Roman Catholic Church, and became professor of English in St. Charles College, Ellicott City, Maryland. He has issued "Poems" (1894), "Lyrics" (1897), “An Octave to Mary," "Child Verse, Poems Grave and Gay" (1899), "Two Lyrics" (1900), " Later Lyrics" (1902), and "Rosary in Rhyme" (1904). "Father" Tabb, as he is usually called, won instant and widespread recognition for his lyric work, especially in the quatrain and other restricted measures. See The Bookbuyer, May, 1896.] MY STAR 2 [FROM "POEMS BY JOHN B. TABB." SECOND EDITION, 1895.] SINCE the dewdrop holds the star The long night through, Perchance the satellite afar Reflects the dew. And while thine image in my heart Doth steadfast shine; There, haply, in thy heaven apart 1 From "A Brief History of American Literature," p. 234. 2 Copyright, 1894, by Copeland & Day. All the poems selected are here printed by kind permission of the author and the present publishers and holders of copyright, Small, Maynard & Co. THE HALF-RING MOON [FROM THE SAME.] OVER the sea, over the sea, My love he is gone to a far countrie; But he brake a golden ring with me The pledge of his faith to be. Over the sea, over the sea, He comes no more from the far countrie; But at night, where the new moon loved to be, Hangs the half of a ring for me. CHILDHOOD [FROM THE SAME.] OLD Sorrow I shall meet again, And Joy, perchance- but never, never, Happy Childhood, shall we twain See each other's face for ever! And yet I would not call thee back, Thine old companion, on the rack KEATS - SAPPHO [FROM THE SAME.] METHINKS, when first the nightingale That Sappho with emotion pale, Amid the Olympian throng, [BORN at Newnan, Georgia, November 22, 1847; died at Mt. Pleasant, Charleston Harbor, August 24, 1904. He studied at the University of Georgia but left the institution to enter the Confederate Army. After the war he graduated at the Southern Presbyterian Theological Seminary at Columbia, South Carolina, in 1874, and began newspaper work the next year as Washington correspondent of The News and Courier of Charleston. After being employed in the railroad business he became permanently associated till his death with The News and Courier as an editorial writer. He published an account of the Charleston Earthquake in the "Year Book of the City of Charleston" for 1885, and a book on the negro problem, "An Appeal to Pharaoh" in 1889, as well as miscellaneous essays and poems. A thin volume of "Selections from the Poems of Carlyle McKinley" was issued in 1904, also a small memorial pamphlet containing the tributes of his friends to his high character and exceptional talents.] SAPELO1 [FROM "SELECTIONS FROM THE POEMS OF CARLYLE MCKINLEY." 1904.] FAR from thy shores, enchanted isle, To wander on thy shining strand, 1 "Sapelo Island is on the ocean front of McIntosh County, near Darien, Georgia" (Hon. William A. Courtenay's Memorial Pamphlet). |