ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS
 
 ^ ROBERT 
 LOUI S 
 
 STEVENSON 
 
 ANELEGY 
 
 ANT>-OTHER?OEMS-HAINDf PERSONAL 
 
 KCHARPIEGIALLIENNE 
 
 LONDON JOHN LANE 
 -MDCCOCCV 
 
 BOSTON- 
 C OPEL AND *rl)Af
 
 TO 
 
 MY DEAR MOTHER AND FATHER 
 
 THESE POEMS ARE LOVINGLY 
 
 DEDICATED
 
 Copyrighted in America. 
 All rights reserved.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON : AN ELEGY . . I 
 
 AN ODE TO SPRING II 
 
 TREE- WORSHIP 17 
 
 A BALLAD OF LONDON 26 
 
 PARIS DAY BY DAY: A FAMILIAR EPISTLE . . 2Q 
 
 ALFRED TENNYSON 33 
 
 PROFESSOR MINTO 38 
 
 ON MR. GLADSTONE'S RETIREMENT . . 39 
 
 OMAR KHAYYAM 4! 
 
 THE SECOND CRUCIFIXION 44 
 
 AN IMPRESSION 47 
 
 NATURAL RELIGION 49 
 
 FAITH REBORN 50 
 
 HESPERIDES 51 
 
 JENNY DEAD 53 
 
 MY BOOKS 55 
 
 MAMMON 56
 
 viii CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 ART 57 
 
 TO A POET 58 
 
 A NEW YEAR LETTER 6l 
 
 SNATCH . 65 
 
 MY MAIDEN VOTE 66 
 
 THE ANIMALCULE ON MAN . . ... .72 
 
 COME, MY CELIA . . 74 
 
 TIME'S MONOTONE 78 
 
 COR CORDIUM 
 
 O GOLDEN DAY ! O SILVER NIGHT ! . .83 
 
 LOVE'S EXCHANGE 85 
 
 TO A SIMPLE HOUSEWIFE 87 
 
 LOVE'S WISDOM 88 
 
 HOME QO 
 
 LOVE'S LANDMARKS 92 
 
 IF, AFTER ALL . . . ! 94 
 
 SPIRIT OF SADNESS 96 
 
 AN INSCRIPTION 98 
 
 SONG 99
 
 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 
 
 AN ELEGY 
 
 HIGH on his Patmos of the Southern Seas 
 Our northern dreamer sleeps, 
 Strange stars above him, and above his grave 
 Strange leaves and wings their tropic splendours 
 
 wave, 
 
 While, far beneath, mile after shimmering mile, 
 The great Pacific, with its faery deeps, 
 Smiles all day long its silken secret smile. 
 
 Son of a race nomadic, finding still 
 
 Its home in regions furthest from its home, 
 
 Ranging untired the borders of the world, 
 
 And resting but to roam ; 
 A
 
 2 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 
 
 Loved of his land, and making all his boast 
 The birthright of the blood from which he came, 
 Heir to those lights that guard the Scottish 
 
 coast, 
 
 And caring only for a filial fame ; 
 Proud, if a poet, he was Scotsman most, 
 And bore a Scottish name. 
 
 Death, that long sought our poet, finds at last, 
 Death, that pursued him over land and sea : 
 Not his the flight of fear, the heart aghast 
 With stony dread of immortality, 
 He fled c not cowardly ' ; 
 Fled, as some captain, in whose shaping hand 
 Lie the momentous fortunes of his land, 
 Sheds not vainglorious blood upon the field, 
 But dares to fly yea ! even dares to yield.
 
 AN ELEGY 3 
 
 Death ! why at last he finds his treasure isle, 
 And he the pirate of its hidden hoard ; 
 Life ! 'twas the ship he sailed to seek it in, 
 And Death is but the pilot come aboard. 
 Methinks I see him smile a boy's glad smile 
 On maddened winds and waters, reefs un- 
 known, 
 
 As thunders in the sail the dread typhoon, 
 And in the surf the shuddering timbers groan ; 
 Horror ahead, and Death beside the wheel : 
 Then spreading stillness of the broad lagoon, 
 And lap of waters round the resting keel. 
 
 Strange Isle of Voices ! must we ask in vain, 
 In vain beseech and win no answering word, 
 Save mocking echoes of our lonely pain 
 From lonely hill and bird ?
 
 4 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 
 
 Island beneath whose unrelenting coast, 
 As though it never in the sun had been, 
 The whole world's treasure lieth sunk and 
 
 lost, 
 
 Unsunned, unseen. 
 
 For, either sunk beyond the diver's skill, 
 There, fathoms deep, our gold is all arust, 
 Or in that island it is hoarded still. 
 Yea, some have said, within thy dreadful wall 
 There is a folk that know not death at all, 
 The loved we lost, the lost we love, are there. 
 Will no kind voice make answer to our cry, 
 Give- to our aching hearts some little trust, 
 Show how 'tis good to live, but best to die ? 
 Some voice that knows 
 Whither the dead man goes : 
 We hear his music from the other side,
 
 AN ELEGY 5 
 
 Maybe a little tapping on the door, 
 A something called, a something sighed 
 No more. 
 
 O for some voice to valiantly declare 
 The best news true ! 
 
 Then, Happy Island of the Happy Dead, 
 How gladly would we spread 
 Impatient sail for you ! 
 
 O vanished loveliness of flowers and faces, 
 Treasure of hair, and great immortal eyes, 
 Are there for these no safe and secret places ? 
 And is it true that beauty never dies ? 
 Soldiers and saints, haughty and lovely names, 
 Women who set the whole wide world in flames, 
 Poets who sang their passion to the skies, 
 And lovers wild and wise :
 
 6 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 
 
 Fought they and prayed for some poor flitting 
 
 gleam, 
 
 Was all they loved and worshipped but a dream ? 
 Is Love a lie and fame indeed a breath, 
 And is there no sure thing in life but death ? 
 Or may it be, within that guarded shore, 
 He meets Her now whom I shall meet no more 
 Till kind Death fold me 'neath his shadowy 
 
 wing: 
 
 She whom within my heart I softly tell 
 That he is dead whom once we loved so well, 
 He, the immortal master whom I sing. 
 
 Immortal ! yea, dare we the word again, 
 If aught remaineth of our mortal day, 
 That which is written shall it not remain ? 
 That which is sung, is it not built for aye ?
 
 AN ELEGY 7 
 
 Faces must fade, for all their golden looks, 
 Unless some poet them eternalise, 
 Make live those golden looks in golden books ; 
 Death, soon or late, will quench the brightest 
 
 eyes 
 
 'Tis only what is written never dies. 
 Yea, memories that guard like sacred gold 
 Some sainted face, they also must grow old, 
 Pass and forget, and think or darest thou not! 
 On all the beauty that is quite forgot. 
 
 Strange craft of words, strange magic of the pen, 
 Whereby the dead still talk with living men ; 
 Whereby a sentence, in its trivial scope, 
 May centre all we love and all we hope ; 
 And in a couplet, like a rosebud furled, 
 Lie all the wistful wonder of the world.
 
 8 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 
 
 Old are the stars, and yet they still endure, 
 Old are the flowers, yet never fail the spring : 
 Why is the song that is so old so new, 
 Known and yet strange each sweet small shape 
 
 and hue ? 
 
 How may a poet thus for ever sing, 
 Thus build his climbing music sweet and sure, 
 As builds in stars and flowers the Eternal 
 
 mind? 
 
 Ah, Poet, that is yours to seek and find ! 
 Yea, yours that magisterial skill whereby 
 God put all Heaven in a woman's eye, 
 Nature's own mighty and mysterious art 
 That knows to pack the whole within the 
 
 part: 
 
 The shell that hums the music of the sea, 
 The little word big with Eternity,
 
 AN ELEGY 9 
 
 The cosmic rhythm in microcosmic things 
 One song the lark and one the planet sings, 
 One kind heart beating warm in bird and 
 
 tree 
 To hear it beat, who knew so well as he ? 
 
 Virgil of prose ! far distant is the day 
 When at the mention of your heartfelt name 
 Shall shake the head, and men, oblivious, say : 
 'We know him not, this master, nor his 
 
 fame/ 
 
 Not for so swift forgetful ness you wrought, 
 Day upon day, with rapt fastidious pen, 
 Turning, like precious stones, with anxious 
 
 thought, 
 
 This word and that again and yet again, 
 Seeking to match its meaning with the world ;
 
 10 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 
 
 Nor to the morning stars gave ears attent, 
 That you, indeed, might ever dare to be 
 With other praise than immortality 
 Unworthily content. 
 
 Not while a boy still whistles on the earth, 
 
 Not while a single human heart beats true, 
 Not while Love lasts, and Honour, and the 
 
 Brave, 
 
 Has earth a grave, 
 O well-beloved, for you !
 
 AN ODE TO SPRING 
 
 (TO GRANT AND NELLIE ALLEN) 
 
 Is it the Spring ? 
 
 Or are the birds all wrong 
 That play on flute and viol, 
 
 A thousand strong, 
 In minstrel galleries 
 
 Of the long deep wood, 
 Epiphanies 
 
 Of bloom and bud. 
 
 Grave minstrels those, 
 
 Of deep responsive chant ; 
 But see how yonder goes, 
 
 Dew-drunk, with giddy slant, 
 
 11
 
 AN ODE TO SPRING 
 Yon Shelley-lark, 
 
 And hark ! 
 Him on the giddy brink 
 
 Of pearly heaven 
 His fairy anvil clink. 
 
 Or watch, in fancy, 
 
 How the brimming note 
 Falls, like a string of pearls, 
 
 From out his heavenly throat ; 
 Or like a fountain 
 
 In Hesperides, 
 Raining its silver rain, 
 
 In gleam and chime, 
 On backs of ivory girls 
 
 Twice happy rhyme !
 
 AN ODE TO SPRING 13 
 
 Ah, none of these 
 
 May make it plain, 
 No image we may seek 
 
 Shall match the magic of his gurgling beak. 
 
 And many a silly thing 
 
 That hops and cheeps, 
 And perks his tiny tail, 
 
 And sideway peeps, 
 
 And flitters little wing, 
 
 . 
 
 Seems in his consequential way 
 To tell of Spring. 
 
 The river warbles soft and runs 
 With fuller curve and sleeker line, 
 
 Though on the winter-blackened hedge 
 Twigs of unbudding iron shine, 
 
 And trampled still the river sedge.
 
 14 AN ODE TO SPRING 
 
 And O the Sun ! 
 
 I have no friend so generous as this Sun 
 That comes to meet me with his big warm 
 hands. 
 
 And O the Sky ! 
 There is no maid, how true, 
 
 Is half so chaste 
 As the pure kiss of greening willow wands 
 
 Against the intense pale blue 
 Of this sweet boundless overarching waste. 
 
 And see! dear Heaven, but it is the 
 Spring ! 
 
 See yonder, yonder, by the river there, 
 Long glittering pearly fingers flash 
 
 Upon the warm bright air :
 
 AN ODE TO SPRING 15 
 
 Why, 'tis the heavenly palm, 
 
 The Christian tree, 
 Whose budding is a psalm 
 
 Of natural piety : 
 
 Soft silver notches up the smooth green 
 stem 
 
 Ah, Spring must follow them, 
 It is the Spring ! 
 
 O Spirit of Spring, 
 
 Whose strange instinctive art 
 Makes the bird sing, 
 
 And brings the bud again ; 
 O in my heart 
 
 Take up thy heavenly reign, 
 And from its deeps 
 
 Draw out the hidden flower,
 
 i6 AN ODE TO SPRING 
 
 And where it sleeps, 
 
 Throughout the winter long, 
 O sweet mysterious power 
 
 Awake the slothful song ! 
 
 February 7, 1893.
 
 TREE-WORSHIP 
 
 (TO JOHN LANE) 
 
 VAST and mysterious brother, ere was yet of me 
 So much as men may poise upon a needle's 
 
 end, 
 Still shook with laughter all this monstrous 
 
 might of thee, 
 
 And still with haughty crest it called the 
 morning friend. 
 
 Thy latticed column jetted up the bright blue air, 
 Tall as a mast it was, and stronger than a tower ; 
 Three hundred winters had beheld thee mighty 
 there, 
 
 Before my little life had lived one little hour. 
 B
 
 i8 TREE-WORSHIP 
 
 With rocky foot stern-set like iron in the 
 
 land, 
 With leafy rustling crest the morning sows 
 
 with pearls, 
 Huge as a minster, half in heaven men saw 
 
 thee stand, 
 
 Thy rugged girth the waists of fifty Eastern 
 girls. 
 
 Knotted and warted, slabbed and armoured 
 / 
 like the hide 
 
 Of tropic elephant ; unstormable and 
 
 steep 
 As some grim fortress with a princess-pearl 
 
 inside, 
 Where savage guardian faces beard the bas- 
 
 tioned keep :
 
 TREE-WORSHIP 19 
 
 So hard a rind, old tree, shielding so soft a 
 
 heart 
 A woman's heart of tender little nestling 
 
 leaves ; 
 Nor rind so hard but that a touch so soft can 
 
 part, 
 
 And Spring's first baby-bud an easy passage 
 cleaves. 
 
 I picture thee within with dainty satin 
 
 sides, 
 Where all the long day through the sleeping 
 
 dryad dreams, 
 But when the moon bends low and taps thee 
 
 thrice she glides, 
 
 Knowing the fairy knock, to bask within her 
 beams.
 
 20 TREE-WORSHIP 
 
 And all the long night through, for him with 
 
 eyes and ears, 
 She sways within thine arms and sings a 
 
 fairy tune, 
 
 Till, startled with the dawn, she softly dis- 
 appears, 
 
 And sleeps and dreams again until the rising 
 moon. 
 
 But with the peep of day great bands of 
 
 heavenly birds 
 
 Fill all thy branchy chambers with a thou- 
 sand flutes, 
 And with the torrid noon stroll up the weary 
 
 herds, 
 
 To seek thy friendly shade and doze about 
 thy roots
 
 TREE-WORSHIP 21 
 
 Till with the setting sun they turn them once 
 
 more home ; 
 
 And, ere the moon dawns, for a brief en- 
 chanted space, 
 
 Weary with million miles, the sore-spent star- 
 beams come, 
 
 And moths and bats hold witches' sabbath 
 in the place. 
 
 And then I picture thee some bloodstained 
 
 Holyrood, 
 Dread haunted palace of the bat and owl, 
 
 whence steal, 
 Shrouded all day, lost murdered spirits of the 
 
 wood, 
 
 And fright young happy nests with homeless 
 hoot and squeal.
 
 22 TREE-WORSHIP 
 
 Then, maybe, dangling from thy gloomy 
 
 gallows boughs, 
 A human corpse swings, mournful, rattling 
 
 bones and chains 
 His eighteenth century flesh hath fattened 
 
 nineteenth century cows 
 Ghastly ^Eolian harp fingered of winds and 
 rains. 
 
 Poor Rizpah comes to reap each newly-fallen 
 
 bone 
 That once thrilled soft, a little limb, within 
 
 her womb ; 
 And mark yon alchemist, with zodiac-spangled 
 
 zone, 
 
 Wrenching the mandrake root that fattens in 
 the gloom.
 
 TREE-WORSHIP 23 
 
 So rounds thy day, from maiden morn to 
 
 haunted night, 
 From larks and sunlit dreams to owl and 
 
 gibbering ghost ; 
 A catacomb of dark, a maze of living 
 
 light, 
 
 To the wide sea of air a green and welcome 
 coast 
 
 I seek a god, old tree : accept my worship, 
 
 thou! 
 All other gods have failed me always in my 
 
 need; 
 I hang my votive song beneath thy temple 
 
 bough, 
 
 Unto thy strength I cry Old monster, be 
 my creed !
 
 24 TREE-WORSHIP 
 
 Give me to clasp this earth with feeding roots 
 
 like thine, 
 
 To mount yon heaven with such star- 
 aspiring head, 
 Fill full with sap and buds this shrunken life 
 
 of mine, 
 
 And from my boughs oh ! might such stalwart 
 sons be shed. 
 
 With loving cheek pressed close against thy 
 
 horny breast, 
 I hear the roar of sap mounting within thy 
 
 veins ; 
 Tingling with buds, thy great hands open 
 
 towards the west, 
 
 To catch the sweetheart winds that bring 
 the sister rains.
 
 TREE-WORSHIP 25 
 
 O winds that blow from out the fruitful mouth 
 
 of God, 
 O rains that softly fall from His all-loving 
 
 eyes, 
 You that bring buds to trees and daisies to 
 
 the sod 
 
 O God's best Angel of the Spring, in me 
 arise.
 
 A BALLAD OF LONDON 
 
 (TO H. w. MASSINOHAM) 
 
 AH, London ! London ! our delight, 
 Great flower that opens but at night, 
 Great City of the Midnight Sun, 
 Whose day begins when day is done. 
 
 Lamp after lamp against the sky 
 Opens a sudden beaming eye, 
 Leaping alight on either hand, 
 The iron lilies of the Strand. 
 
 Like dragonflies, the hansoms hover, 
 With jewelled eyes, to catch the lover ; 
 The streets are full of lights and loves, 
 Soft gowns, and flutter of soiled doves. 
 
 26
 
 A BALLAD OF LONDON 27 
 
 The human moths about the light 
 Dash and cling close in dazed delight, 
 And burn and laugh, the world and wife, 
 For this is London, this is life ! 
 
 Upon thy petals butterflies, 
 But at thy root, some say, there lies 
 A world of weeping trodden things, 
 Poor worms that have not eyes or wings. 
 
 From out corruption of their woe 
 Springs this bright flower that charms us so, 
 Men die and rot deep out of sight 
 To keep this jungle-flower bright 
 
 Paris and London, World-Flowers twain 
 Wherewith the World-Tree blooms again,
 
 28 A BALLAD OF LONDON 
 
 Since Time hath gathered Babylon, 
 And withered Rome still withers on. 
 
 Sidon and Tyre were such as ye, 
 How bright they shone upon the Tree ! 
 But Time hath gathered, both are gone, 
 And no man sails to Babylon. 
 
 Ah, London ! London ! our delight, 
 For thee, too, the eternal night, 
 And Circe Paris hath no charm 
 To stay Time's unrelenting arm. 
 
 Time and his moths shall eat up all. 
 Your chiming towers proud and tall 
 He shall most utterly abase, 
 And set a desert in their place.
 
 PARIS DAY BY DAY: A FAMILIAR 
 EPISTLE 
 
 (TO MRS. HENRY HARLAND *) 
 
 PARIS, half Angel, half Grisette, 
 I would that I were with thee yet, 
 Where the long boulevard at even 
 Stretches its starry lamps to heaven, 
 And whispers from a thousand trees 
 Vague hints of the Hesperides. 
 
 Once more, once more, my heart, to sit 
 With Aline's smile and Harry's wit, 
 To sit and sip the cloudy green, 
 With dreamy hints of speech between ; 
 
 1 By kind permission of the Editor of The Yellow Book.
 
 30 PARIS DAY BY DAY 
 
 Or, may be, flashing all intent 
 At call of some stern argument, 
 When the New Woman fain would be, 
 Like the Old Male, her husband, free. 
 The prose-man takes his mighty lyre 
 And talks like music set on fire ! 
 
 The while the merry crowd slips by 
 Glittering and glancing to the eye, 
 All happy lovers on their way 
 To make a golden end of day 
 Ah ! Cafe" truly called La Paix \ 
 
 Or at the pension I would be 
 With Transatlantic maidens three, 
 The same, I vow, who once of old 
 Guarded with song the trees of gold.
 
 A FAMILIAR EPISTLE 31 
 
 O Lady, lady, Vis-d- Vis, 
 When shall I cease to think of thee, 
 On whose fair head the Golden Fleece 
 Too soon, too soon, returns to Greece 
 Oh, why to Athens e'er depart ? 
 Come back, come back, and bring my 
 heart ! 
 
 And she whose gentle silver grace, 
 So wise of speech and kind of face, 
 Whose every wise and witty word 
 Fell shy, half blushing to be heard. 
 
 Last, but ah ! surely not least dear, 
 That blithe and buxom buccaneer, 
 Th' avenging goddess of her sex, 
 Born the base soul of man to vex,
 
 32 PARIS DAY BY DAY 
 
 And wring from him those tears and sighs 
 Tortured from woman's heart and eyes. 
 Ah ! fury, fascinating, fair 
 When shall I cease to think of her \ 
 
 Paris, half Angel, half Grisette, 
 I would that I were with thee yet, 
 But London waits me, like a wife, 
 London, the love of my whole life. 
 
 Tell her not, Paris, mercy me ! 
 How I have flirted, dear, with thee.
 
 ALFRED TENNYSON 
 
 (WESTMINSTER, OCTOBER 12, 1892) 
 
 GREAT man of song, whose glorious laurelled 
 head 
 
 Within the lap of death sleeps well at last, 
 Down the dark road, seeking the deathless dead, 
 
 Thy faithful, fearless, shining soul hath passed. 
 
 Fame blows his silver trumpet o'er thy sleep, 
 
 And Love stands broken by thy lonely lyre ; 
 So pure the fire God gave this clay to keep, 
 
 The clay must still seem holy for the fire. 
 C
 
 34 ALFRED TENNYSON 
 
 Poor dupes of sense, we deem the close-shut 
 eye, 
 
 So faithful servant of his golden tongue, 
 Still holds the hoarded lights of earth and sky, 
 
 We deem the mouth still full of sleeping song. 
 
 We mourn as though the great good song he 
 gave 
 
 Passed with the singer's own informing breath : 
 Ah, golden book, for thee there is no grave, 
 
 Thine is a rhyme that shall not taste of death. 
 
 Great wife of his great heart 'tis yours to 
 mourn, 
 
 Son well-beloved, 'tis yours, who loved him so : 
 But we ! hath death one perfect page out-torn 
 
 From the great song whereby alone we know
 
 ALFRED TENNYSON 35 
 
 The splendid spirit imperiously shy, 
 Husband to you and father we afar 
 Hail poet of God, and name as one should 
 
 cry : 
 ' Yonder a king, and yonder lo ! a star ! ' 
 
 So great his song we deem a little while 
 
 That Song itself with his great voice hath 
 fled, 
 
 So grand the toga-sweep of his great style, 
 So vast the theme on which his song was fed. 
 
 One sings a flower, and one a face, and one 
 Screens from the world a corner choice and 
 small, 
 
 Each toy its little laureate hath, but none 
 Sings of the whole : yea, only he sang all.
 
 36 ALFRED TENNYSON 
 
 Poor little bards, so shameless in your care 
 
 To snatch the mighty laurel from his head, 
 Have you no fear, dwarfs in the giant's chair, 
 
 How men shall laugh, remembering the 
 dead? 
 
 Great is advertisement ! 'tis almost fate, 
 But, little mushroom-men, of puff-ball fame, 
 
 Ah, do you dream to be mistaken great 
 And to be really great are just the same ? 
 
 Ah, fools ! he was a laureate ere one leaf 
 
 Of the great crown had whispered on his 
 
 brows ; 
 Fame shrilled his song, Love carolled it, and 
 
 Grief 
 Blessed it with tears within her lonely house.
 
 ALFRED TENNYSON 37 
 
 Fame loved him well, because he loved not Fame, 
 But Peace and Love, all other things before, 
 
 A man was he ere yet he was a name, 
 
 His song was much because his love was more.
 
 PROFESSOR MINTO 
 
 NATURE, that makes Professors all day long, 
 And, filling idle souls with idle song, 
 Turns out small Poets every other minute, 
 Made earth for men but seldom puts men in it. 
 
 Ah, Minto, thou of that minority 
 Wert man of men we had deep need of thee ! 
 Had Heaven a deeper ? Did the heavenly Chair 
 Of Earthly Love wait empty for thee there ? 
 
 March I, 1893.
 
 ON MR. GLADSTONE'S RETIREMENT 
 
 THE world grows Lilliput, the great men go ; 
 
 If greatness be, it wears no outer sign ; 
 
 No more the signet of the mighty line 
 Stamps the great brow for all the world to 
 
 know. 
 Shrunken the mould of manhood is, and lo ! 
 
 Fragments and fractions of the old divine, 
 
 Men pert of brain, planned on a mean design, 
 Dapper and undistinguished such we grow. 
 
 No more the leonine heroic head, 
 
 The ruling arm, great heart, and kingly eye ; 
 
 39
 
 40 ON MR. GLADSTONE'S RETIREMENT 
 No more th' alchemic tongue that turned 
 
 poor themes 
 
 Of statecraft into golden-glowing dreams ; 
 No more a man for man to deify : 
 Laurel no more the heroic age is dead.
 
 OMAR KHAYYAM 
 
 (TO THE OMAR KHAYYAM CLUB) 
 
 GREAT Omar, here to-night we drain a bowl 
 Unto thy long-since transmigrated soul, 
 Ours all unworthy in thy place to sit, 
 Ours still to read in life's enchanted scroll. 
 
 For us like thee a little hour to stay, 
 For us like thee a little hour of play, 
 
 A little hour for wine and love and song, 
 And we too turn the glass and take our way. 
 
 So many years your tomb the roses strew, 
 Yet not one penny wiser we than you, 
 
 41
 
 42 OMAR KHAYYAM 
 
 The doubts that wearied you are with us still, 
 And, Heaven be thanked ! your wine is with 
 us too. 
 
 For, have the years a better message brought 
 To match the simple wisdom that you taught : 
 Love, wine and verse, and just a little 
 
 bread 
 For these to live and count the rest as nought ? 
 
 Therefore, Great Omar, here our homage deep 
 We drain to thee, though all too fast asleep 
 
 In Death's intoxication art thou sunk 
 To know the solemn revels that we keep. 
 
 Oh, had we, best-loved Poet, but the power 
 From our own lives to pluck one golden hour,
 
 OMAR KHAYYAM 43 
 
 And give it unto thee in thy great need, 
 How would we welcome thee to this bright 
 bower ! 
 
 O life that is so warm, 'twas Omar's too ; 
 O wine that is so red, he drank of you : 
 
 Yet life and wine must all be put away, 
 And we go sleep with Omar yea, 'tis true. 
 
 And when in some great city yet to be 
 The sacred wine is spilt for you and me, 
 
 To those great fames that we have yet to 
 
 build, 
 We '11 know as little of it all as he.
 
 THE SECOND CRUCIFIXION 
 
 LOUD mockers in the roaring street 
 Say Christ is crucified again : 
 
 Twice pierced His gospel-bringing feet, 
 Twice broken His great heart in vain. 
 
 I hear, and to myself I smile, 
 
 For Christ talks with me all the while. 
 
 No angel now to roll the stone 
 From off His unawaking sleep, 
 
 In vain shall Mary watch alone, 
 In vain the soldiers vigil keep. 
 
 44
 
 THE SECOND CRUCIFIXION 45 
 
 Yet while they deem my Lord is dead 
 My eyes are on His shining head. 
 
 Ah ! never more shall Mary hear 
 That voice exceeding sweet and low 
 
 Within the garden calling clear : 
 Her Lord is gone, and she must go. 
 
 Yet all the while my Lord I meet 
 In every London lane and street. 
 
 Poor Lazarus shall wait in vain, 
 And Bartimaeus still go blind ; 
 
 The healing hem shall ne'er again 
 Be touched by suffering humankind. 
 
 Yet all the while I see them rest, 
 The poor and outcast, in His breast.
 
 46 THE SECOND CRUCIFIXION 
 
 No more unto the stubborn heart 
 
 With gentle knocking shall He plead, 
 No more the mystic pity start, 
 
 For Christ twice dead is dead indeed. 
 
 So in the street I hear men say, 
 Yet Christ is with me all the day.
 
 AN IMPRESSION 
 
 THE floating call of the cuckoo, 
 
 Soft little globes of bosom-shaped sound, 
 
 Came and went at the window ; 
 
 And, out in the great green world, 
 
 Those maidens each morn the flowers 
 
 Opened their white little bodices wide to the 
 
 sun: 
 
 And the man sighed sighed in his sleep, 
 And the woman smiled. 
 
 Then a lark staggered singing by 
 Up his shining ladder of dew, 
 And the airs of dawn walked softly about the 
 room, 
 
 47
 
 48 AN IMPRESSION 
 
 Filling the morning sky with the scent of the 
 
 woman's hair, 
 And giving, in sweet exchange, its hawthorn 
 
 and daisy breath : 
 And the man awoke with a sob 
 But the woman dreamed.
 
 NATURAL RELIGION 
 
 UP through the mystic deeps of sunny air 
 I cried to God' O Father, art Thou there ? ' 
 Sudden the answer, like a flute, I heard : 
 It was an angel, though it seemed a bird.
 
 FAITH REBORN 
 
 ' THE old gods pass, 1 the cry goes round, 
 ' Lo ! how their temples strew the ground ' ; 
 Nor mark we where, on new-fledged wings, 
 Faith, like the phoenix, soars and sings. 
 
 50
 
 HESPERIDES 
 
 MEN say beyond the western seas 
 The happy isles no longer glow, 
 
 No sailor sights Hesperides, 
 All that was long ago. 
 
 No longer in a glittering morn 
 Their misty meadows flicker nigh, 
 
 No singing with the spray is borne, 
 All that is long gone by. 
 
 To-day upon the golden beach 
 
 No gold-haired guardian maidens stand, 
 No apples ripen out of reach, 
 
 And none are mad to land. 
 
 61
 
 52 HESPERIDES 
 
 The merchant-men, 'tis they say so, 
 That trade across the western seas, 
 
 In hurried transit to and fro, 
 About Hesperides. 
 
 But, Reader, not as these thou art, 
 So, loose thy shallop from its hold, 
 
 And, trusting to the ancient chart, 
 Thou 'It make them as of old.
 
 JENNY DEAD 
 
 LIKE a flower in the frost 
 
 Sweet Jenny lies, 
 With her frail hands calmly crossed, 
 
 And close-shut eyes. 
 
 
 
 Bring a candle, for the room 
 
 Is dark and cold, 
 Antechamber of the tomb 
 
 O grief untold ! 
 
 Like a snowdrift is her bed, 
 
 Dinted the snow, 
 Faint frozen lines from foot to head,- 
 
 She lies below. 
 
 68
 
 54 JENNY DEAD 
 
 Turn from off her shrouded face 
 
 The frigid sheet. . . . 
 Death hath doubled all her grace 
 
 O Jenny, sweet !
 
 MY BOOKS 
 
 WHAT are my books ? My friends, my loves, 
 My church, my tavern, and my only wealth ; 
 
 My garden : yea, my flowers, my bees, my 
 
 doves ; 
 My only doctors and my only health.
 
 MAMMON 
 
 (FOR MR. G. F. WATTS'S PICTURE) 
 
 MAMMON is this, of murder and of gold, 
 To-day, to-morrow, and ever from of old, 
 Th' Almighty God, and King of every land. 
 Man 'neath his foot, and woman 'neath his 
 
 hand, 
 
 Kneel prostrate : he, 'tis meant to symbolise, 
 Steals our strong men and our sweet women 
 
 buys. 
 
 O ! rather grind me down into the dust 
 Than choose me for the vessel of thy lust 
 
 68
 
 ART 
 
 ART is a gipsy, 
 
 Fickle as fair, 
 Good to kiss and flirt with, 
 
 But marry if you dare !
 
 TO A POET 
 
 (TO EDMUND GOSSE) 
 
 STILL towards the steep Parnassian way 
 The moon-led pilgrims wend, 
 Ah, who of all that start to-day 
 Shall ever reach the end ? 
 
 Year after year a dream-fed band 
 That scorn the vales below, 
 And scorn the fatness of the land 
 To win those heights of snow, 
 
 Leave barns and kine and flocks behind, 
 And count their fortune fair, 
 
 58
 
 TO A POET 59 
 
 If they a dozen leaves may bind 
 Of laurel in their hair. 
 
 Like us, dear Poet, once you trod 
 That sweet moon-smitten way, 
 With mouth of silver sought the god 
 All night and all the day ; 
 
 Sought singing, till in rosy fire 
 
 The white Apollo came, 
 
 And touched your brow, and wreathed 
 
 your lyre, 
 And named you by his name ; 
 
 And led you, loving, by the hand 
 To those grave laurelled bowers, 
 Where keep your high immortal band 
 Your high immortal hours.
 
 60 TO A POET 
 
 Strait was the way, thorn-set and long- 
 
 Ah, tell us, shining there, 
 
 Is fame as wonderful as song ? 
 
 And laurels in your hair !
 
 A NEW YEAR LETTER 
 
 To Two Friends married in the New Year 
 
 (TO. MR. AND MRS. WELCH) 
 
 ANOTHER year to its last day, 
 Like a lost sovereign, runaway, 
 Tips down the gloomy grid of time: 
 In vain to holloa, ' Stop it ! hey ! ' 
 A cab-horse that has taken fright, 
 Be you a policeman, stop you may ; 
 But not a sovereign mad with glee 
 That scampers to the grid, perdie, 
 And not a year that 's taken flight ; 
 To both 'tis just a grim good night 
 
 61
 
 62 A NEW YEAR LETTER 
 
 But no ! the imagery, say you, 
 Is wondrous witty but not true ; 
 For the old year that last night went 
 Has not been so much lost as spent : 
 You gave it in exchange to Death 
 For just twelve months of happy breath. 
 
 It was a ticket to admit 
 Two happy people close to sit 
 A ' Season ' ticket, one might say, 
 At Time's eternal passion play. 
 
 O magic overture of Spring, 
 
 O Summer like an Eastern King, 
 
 O Autumn, splendid widowed Queen, 
 
 O Winter, alabaster tomb 
 
 Where lie the regal twain serene, 
 
 Gone to their yearly doom.
 
 A NEW YEAR LETTER 63 
 
 But all you bought with that spent year, 
 Ah, friends ! it was as nothing, was it ? 
 Nothing at all to hold compare 
 With what you buy with this New Year. 
 A home ! ah me, you could not buy 
 Another half so precious toy, 
 With all the other years to come 
 As that grown-up doll's house a home. 
 
 wine upon its threshold stone, 
 And horse-shoes on the lintel of it, 
 And happy hearts to keep it warm, 
 And God Himself to love it ! 
 Dear little nest built snug on bough 
 Within the World-Tree's mighty arms, 
 
 1 would I knew a spell that charms 
 Eternal safety from the storm ;
 
 64 A NEW YEAR LETTER 
 
 To give you always stars above, 
 And always roses on the bough 
 But then the Tree's own root is Love, 
 Love, love, all love, I vow. 
 
 New Year 1893.
 
 SNATCH 
 
 FROM tavern to tavern 
 Youth passes along, 
 
 With an armful of girl 
 And a heart full of song. 
 
 From flower to flower 
 The butterfly sips, 
 
 O passionate limbs 
 And importunate lips ! 
 
 From candle to candle 
 
 The moth loves to fly, 
 O sweet, sweet to burn ! 
 
 And still sweeter to die ! 
 E
 
 MY MAIDEN VOTE 
 
 (TO JOHN ERASER) 
 
 THERE, in my mind's-eye, pure it lay, 
 My lodger's vote ! 'Twas mine to-day. 
 It seemed a sort of maidenhood, 
 My little power for public good, 
 Oh keep it uncorrupted, pray ! 
 And, when it must be given away, 
 See it be given with a sense 
 Of most uncanvassed innocence. 
 Alas ! but few there be that know 't 
 How grave a thing it is to vote ! 
 For most men's votes are given, I hear, 
 Either for rhetoric or beer. 
 
 66
 
 MY MAIDEN VOTE 67 
 
 A young man's vote O fair estate ! 
 Of the great tree electorate 
 A living leaf, of this great sea 
 A motive wave of empire I, 
 On this stupendous wheel a fly. 
 O maiden vote, how pure must be 
 The party that is worthy thee ! 
 And thereupon my mind began 
 That perfect government to plan, 
 The high millennium of man. 
 
 Then in my dream I saw arise 
 
 An England, ah ! so fair and wise, 
 
 An England generously great, 
 
 No selfish island, but a state 
 
 Upon the world's bright forehead worn, 
 
 A mighty star of mighty morn.
 
 68 MY MAIDEN VOTE 
 
 And statesmen in that dream became 
 No tricksters of the petty aim, 
 Mere speculators in the rise 
 Of programmes and of party cries, 
 Expert in all those turns and tricks 
 That make this senate-house of ours, 
 Westminster, with its lordly towers, 
 The stock-exchange of politics. 
 But that ideal Parliament 
 Did all it said, said all it meant, 
 And every Minister of State 
 Was guileless as a candidate. 
 
 Statesmen no more the tinker's way 
 Mended and patched from day to day, 
 Content with piecing part with part, 
 But took the mighty problem whole,
 
 MY MAIDEN VOTE 69 
 
 Beginning with the human heart : 
 For noble rulers make in vain 
 Unselfish laws for selfish men, 
 And give the whole wide world its vote, 
 But who is going to give it soul ? 
 
 And then I dreamed had come to reign 
 True peace within our land again ; 
 Not peace that rots the soul with ease, 
 Or those ignoble ' rivalries 
 Of peace ' more murderous than war, 
 But just the simple peasant peace 
 The weary world is waiting for. 
 With simple food and simple wear 
 Go lots of love and little care, 
 And joy is saved from over-sweet 
 By struggle not too hard to bear.
 
 70 MY MAIDEN VOTE 
 
 So dreamed I on from dream to 
 
 dream, 
 
 Till, slow returning to my theme, 
 Upon my vote I looked again 
 To whom was I to give it then ? 
 That uncorrupted maidenhood, 
 My little power for public good. 
 What party was there that I knew 
 That I might dare intrust it to, 
 A perfect party fair and square 
 My House of Commons in the air ? 
 
 Though called by many different 
 
 names, 
 
 Each one professed the noblest aims ; 
 Should all be right, 'twas logical 
 That I should give my vote to all !
 
 MY MAIDEN VOTE 71 
 
 And then, of parties old and new 
 Which one, if only one, were true ? 
 
 The divination passed my skill, 
 My maiden vote is maiden still.
 
 THE ANIMALCULE ON MAN 
 
 AN animalcule in my blood 
 
 Rose up against me as I dreamed, 
 
 He was so tiny as he stood, 
 
 You had not heard him, though he screamed. 
 
 He cried ' There is no Man ! ' 
 
 And thumped the table with his fist, 
 
 Then died his day was scarce a span, 
 That microscopic atheist. 
 
 Yet all the while his little soul 
 Within what he denied did live, 
 
 Poor part, how could he know the whole ? 
 And yet he was so positive ! 
 
 72
 
 THE ANIMALCULE ON MAN 73 
 
 And all the while he thus blasphemed 
 
 My (solar) system went its round, 
 My heart beat on, my head still dreamed, 
 
 But my poor atheist was drowned.
 
 COME, MY CELIA 
 
 COME, my Celia, let us prove, 
 While we may, how wise is love 
 Love grown old and grey with years, 
 Love whose blood is thinned with tears. 
 
 Philosophic lover I, 
 Broke my heart, its love run dry, 
 And I warble passion's words 
 But to hear them sing like birds. 
 
 When the lightning struck my side, 
 Love shrieked and for ever died, 
 
 74
 
 COME, MY CELIA 75 
 
 Leaving nought of him behind 
 But these playthings of the mind. 
 
 Now the real play is over 
 I can only act a lover, 
 Now the mimic play begins 
 With its puppet joys and sins. 
 
 When the heart no longer feels, 
 And the blood with caution steals, 
 Then, ah ! then my heart, forgive ! 
 Then we dare begin to live. 
 
 Dipped in Stygian waves of pain, 
 We can never feel again ; 
 Time may hurl his deadliest darts, 
 Love may practise all his arts ;
 
 76 COME, MY CELIA 
 
 Like some Balder, lo ! we stand 
 Safe 'mid hurtling spear and brand, 
 Only Death ah ! sweet Death, throw !- 
 Holds the fatal mistletoe. 
 
 Let the young unconquered soul 
 Love the unit as the whole, 
 Let the young uncheated eye 
 Love the face fore-doomed to die : 
 
 But, my Celia, not for us 
 Pleasures half so hazardous ; 
 Let us set our hearts on play, 
 Tis, alas ! the only way 
 
 Make of life the jest it is, 
 
 Laugh and fool and (maybe !) kiss,
 
 COME, MY CELIA 77 
 
 Never for a moment, dear, 
 Love so well to risk a fear. 
 
 Is not this, my Celia, say, 
 
 The only wise and weary way ?
 
 TIME'S MONOTONE 
 
 AUTUMN and Winter, 
 
 Summer and Spring 
 Hath Time no other song to sing ? 
 Weary we grow of the changeless tune 
 
 June December, 
 
 December June ! 
 
 Time, like a bird, hath but one song, 
 One way to build, like a bird hath he ; 
 
 Thus hath he built so long, so long, 
 Thus hath he sung Ah me ! 
 
 78
 
 TIME'S MONOTONE 79 
 
 Time, like a spider, knows, be sure, 
 
 One only wile, though he seems so wise : 
 
 Death is his web, and Love his lure, 
 And you and I his flies. 
 
 ' Love ! ' he sings 
 In the morning clear, 
 
 ' Love ! Love ! Love ! ' 
 And you never hear 
 How, under his breath, 
 He whispers, ' Death ! 
 Death! Death!' 
 
 Yet Time 'tis the strangest thing of all 
 Knoweth not the sense of the words he saith ; 
 
 Eternity taught him his parrot-call 
 Of ' Love and Death.'
 
 8o TIME'S MONOTONE 
 
 Year after year doth the old man climb 
 The mountainous knees of Eternity, 
 But Eternity telleth nothing to Time 
 It may not be.
 
 COR CORDIUM 
 
 F
 
 O GOLDEN DAY! O SILVER NIGHT! 
 
 O GOLDEN day ! O silver night ! 
 
 That brought my own true love at last, 
 Ah, wilt thou drop from out our sight, 
 
 And drown within the past ? 
 
 One wave, no more, in life's wide sea, 
 One little nameless crest of foam, 
 
 The day that gave her all to me 
 And brought us to our home. 
 
 Nay, rather as the morning grows 
 In flush, and gleam, and kingly ray, 
 
 While up the heaven the sun-god goes, 
 So shall ascend our day. 
 
 83
 
 84 O GOLDEN DAY! O SILVER NIGHT! 
 
 And when at last the long night nears, 
 And love grows angel in the gloam, 
 
 Nay, sweetheart, what of fears and tears ? 
 The stars shall see us home.
 
 LOVE'S EXCHANGE 
 
 SIMPLE am I, I care no whit 
 
 For pelf or place, 
 It is enough for me to sit 
 
 And watch Dulcinea's face ; 
 To mark the lights and shadows flit 
 Across the silver moon of it 
 
 I have no other merchandise, 
 
 No stocks or shares, 
 No other gold but just what lies 
 
 In those deep eyes of hers ; 
 And, sure, if all the world were wise, 
 It too would bank within her eyes. 
 
 86
 
 86 LOVE'S EXCHANGE 
 
 I buy up all her smiles all day 
 
 With all my love, 
 And sell them back, cost-price, or, say, 
 
 A kiss or two above ; 
 It is a speculation fine, 
 The profit must be always mine. 
 
 The world has many things, 'tis true, 
 
 To fill its time, 
 Far more important things to do 
 
 Than making love and rhyme ; 
 Yet, if it asked me to advise, 
 I 'd say buy up Dulcinea's eyes !
 
 TO A SIMPLE HOUSEWIFE 
 
 WHO dough shall knead as for God's sake 
 Shall fill it with celestial leaven, 
 
 And every loaf that she shall bake 
 Be eaten of the Blest in heaven. 
 
 S7
 
 LOVE'S WISDOM 
 
 SOMETIMES my idle heart would roam 
 
 Far from its quiet happy nest, 
 To seek some other newer home, 
 
 Some unaccustomed Best : 
 But ere it spreads its foolish wings, 
 ' Heart, stay at home, be wise ! ' Love's wisdom 
 sings. 
 
 Sometimes my idle heart would sail 
 From out its quiet sheltered bay, 
 
 To tempt a less pacific gale, 
 And oceans far away :
 
 LOVE'S WISDOM 89 
 
 But ere it shakes its foolish wings, 
 ' Heart, stay at home, be wise ! ' Love's wisdom 
 sings. 
 
 Sometimes my idle heart would fly, 
 
 Mothlike, to reach some shining sin, 
 It seems so sweet to burn and die 
 
 That wondrous light within : 
 But ere it burns its foolish wings, 
 * Heart, stay at home, be wise ! ' Love's wisdom 
 sings.
 
 HOME . . . 
 
 ' WE 'RE going home ! ' I heard two lovers say, 
 
 They kissed their friends and bade them bright 
 good-byes ; 
 
 I hid the deadly hunger in my eyes, 
 And, lest I might have killed them, turned away. 
 Ah, love ! we too once gambolled home as they, 
 
 Home from the town with such fair merchan- 
 dise, 
 
 Wine and great grapes the happy lover buys : 
 A little cosy feast to crown the day. 
 
 Yes ! we had once a heaven we called a home 
 Its empty rooms still haunt me like thine 
 eyes, 
 
 90
 
 HOME ... 91 
 
 When the last sunset softly faded there ; 
 Each day I tread each empty haunted room, 
 
 And now and then a little baby cries, 
 Or laughs a lovely laughter worse to bear.
 
 LOVE'S LANDMARKS 
 
 THE woods we used to walk, my love, 
 Are woods no more, 
 
 But ' villas ' now with sounding names- 
 All name and door. 
 
 The pond, where, early on in March, 
 
 The yellow cup 
 Of water-lilies made us glad, 
 
 Is now filled up. 
 
 But ah ! what if they fill or fell 
 
 Each pond, each tree, 
 What matters it to-day, my love, 
 
 To me to thee ? 
 
 92
 
 LOVE'S LANDMARKS 93 
 
 The jerry-builder may consume, 
 
 A greedy moth, 
 God's mantle of the living green, 
 
 I feel no wrath ; 
 
 Eat up the beauty of the world, 
 
 And gorge his fill 
 On mead and winding country lane, 
 
 And grassy hill. 
 
 I only laugh, for now of these 
 
 I have no care, 
 Now that to me the fair is foul, 
 
 And foul as fair.
 
 IF, AFTER ALL . . .! 
 
 THIS life I squander, hating the long days 
 
 That will not bring me either Rest or Thee, 
 
 This health I hack and ravage as with knives, 
 
 These nerves I fain would shatter, and this heart 
 
 I fain would break this heart that, traitor-like, 
 
 Beats on with foolish and elastic beat : 
 
 If, after all, this life I waste and kill 
 
 Should still be thine, may still be lived for thee ! 
 
 And this the dreadful trial of my love, 
 
 This silence and this blank that makes me mad, 
 
 That I be man to-day of all the days 
 
 My one poor hope of meeting thee again 
 
 If Death be Love, and God's great purpose kind! 
 
 94
 
 IF, AFTER ALL ... 95 
 
 Oh, love, if some day on the heavenly stair 
 A wild ecstatic moment we should stand, 
 And I, all hungry for your eyes and hair, 
 Should meet instead your great accusing gaze, 
 And hear, instead of welcome into heaven : 
 ' Ah ! hadst thou but been true ! but manfully 
 Borne the high pangs that all high souls must bear, 
 Nor fled to low nepenthes for your pain ! 
 Hadst said " Is she not here ? more reason then 
 To live as though still guarded by her eyes, 
 Cleaner my thought, and purer be my deed ; 
 True will I be, though God Himself be false ! " ' 
 
 Oh, hadst thou thus been man, to-day had we 
 Walked on together undivided now 
 But now a thousand flaming years must pass, 
 And all the trial be gone o'er again.
 
 SPIRIT OF SADNESS 
 
 SHE loved the Autumn, I the Spring, 
 Sad all the songs she loved to sing ; 
 And in her face was strangely set 
 Some great inherited regret. 
 
 Some look in all things made her sigh, 
 Yea ! sad to her the morning sky : 
 ' So sad ! so sad its beauty seems ' 
 I hear her say it still in dreams. 
 
 But when the day grew grey and old, 
 And rising stars shone strange and cold, 
 Then only in her face I saw 
 A mystic glee, a joyous awe. 
 
 96
 
 SPIRIT OF SADNESS 97 
 
 Spirit of Sadness, in the spheres 
 Is there an end of mortal tears ? 
 Or is there still in those great eyes 
 That look of lonely hills and skies ?
 
 AN INSCRIPTION 
 
 PRECIOUS the box that Mary brake 
 Of spikenard for her Master's sake, 
 But ah ! it held nought half so dear 
 As the sweet dust that whitens here. 
 The greater wonder who shall say : 
 To make so white a soul of clay, 
 From clay to win a face so fair, 
 Those strange great eyes, that sunlit hair 
 A-ripple o'er her witty brain, 
 Or turn all back to dust again. 
 
 Who knows but, in some happy hour, 
 The God whose strange alchemic power 
 Wrought her of dust, again may turn 
 To woman this immortal urn. 
 
 98
 
 SONG 
 
 SHE 's somewhere in the sunlight strong, 
 Her tears are in the falling rain, 
 
 She calls me in the wind's soft song, 
 And with the flowers she comes again. 
 
 Yon bird is but her messenger, 
 The moon is but her silver car ; 
 
 Yea ! sun and moon are sent by her, 
 And every wistful waiting star. 
 
 99
 
 Printed by T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to Her Majesty 
 at the Edinburgh University Press
 
 List of Books 
 
 in 
 
 gelles Jettres 
 
 1895 
 
 THcBODLEYHEAD 
 VIGOJT L NDN 
 
 ALL BOOKS IN THIS CATALOGUE 
 ARK PUBLISHED AT NET PRICES 
 
 Telegraphic Address 
 BODLEIAN, LONDON'
 
 i9S 
 
 List of Books 
 
 IN 
 
 BELLES LETTRES 
 
 (Including some Transfers) 
 
 Published by John Lane 
 
 VIGO STREET, LONDON, W. 
 
 N.B. The Authors and Publisher reserve the right of reprinting 
 any book in this list if a new edition is called for, except in cases 
 where a stipulation has been made to the contrary, and of printing 
 a separate edition of any of the books for America irrespective of the 
 numbers to which the English editions are limited. The numbers 
 mentioned do not include copies sent to the public libraries, nor those 
 sent for review. 
 
 Most of the books are published simultaneously in England and 
 America, and in many instances the names of the American 
 Publishers are appended. 
 
 ADAMS (FRANCIS). 
 
 ESSAYS IN MODERNITY. Crown 8vo. $s. net. [Shortly. 
 Chicago : Stone & Kimball. 
 
 A CHILD OF THE AGE. (See KEYNOTES SERIES.) 
 
 ALLEN (GRANT). 
 
 THE LOWER SLOPES : A Volume of Verse. With Title- 
 page and Cover Design by J. ILLINGWORTH KAY. 
 600 copies. Crown 8vo. 55. net. 
 
 Chicago : Stone & Kimball. 
 THE WOMAN WHO DID. (See KEYNOTES SERIES.)
 
 THE PUBLICATIONS OF JOHN LANE 
 
 BEARDSLEY (AUBREY). 
 
 THE STORY OF VENUS AND TANNHAUSER, in which is set 
 forth an exact account of the Manner of State held by 
 Madam Venus, Goddess and Meretrix, under the 
 famous Horselberg, and containing the adventures of 
 Tannhauser in that place, his repentance, his jour- 
 neying to Rome, and return to the loving mountain. 
 By AUBREY BEARDSLEY. With 20 full-page illus- 
 trations, numerous ornaments, and a cover from the 
 same hand. Sq, i6mo. IDS. 6d. net. [In preparation. 
 
 BEDDOES (T. L.). 
 
 See GOSSE (EDMUND). 
 
 BEECHING (REV. H. C.). 
 
 IN A GARDEN: Poems. With Title-page designed by 
 ROGER FRY. Crown 8vo. 5s.net. 
 New York : Macmillan & Co. 
 
 BENSON (ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER). 
 LYRICS. Fcap. 8vo., buckram. 55. net. 
 New York : Macmillan & Co. 
 
 BROTHERTON (MARY). 
 
 ROSEMARY FOR REMEMBRANCE. With Title-page and 
 Cover Design by WALTER WEST. Fcap.Svo. 3s.6d.net. 
 
 CAMPBELL (GERALD). 
 
 THE JONESES AND THE ASTERISKS. With 6 Illustra- 
 tions and a Title-page by F. H. TOWNSEND. Fcap. 
 8vo. 33. 6d. net. [In preparation. 
 
 CASTLE (MRS. EGERTON). 
 
 MY LITTLE LADY ANNE : A Romance. Sq. :6mo. 
 2s. 6d. net. [In preparation. 
 
 CASTLE (EGERTON). 
 
 See STEVENSON (ROBERT Louis). 
 
 CROSS (VICTORIA). 
 
 CONSUMMATION : A Novel. Crown 8vo. 45. 6d. net. 
 
 [In preparation. 
 DALMON (C. W.). 
 
 SONG FAVOURS. With a specially-designed Title-page. 
 Sq. i6mo. 45. 6d. net. [In preparation.
 
 THE PUBLICATIONS OF 
 
 D'ARCY (ELLA). 
 
 MONOCHROMES. (See KEYNOTES SERIES.) 
 
 DAVIDSON (JOHN). 
 
 PLAYS : An Unhistorical Pastoral ; A Romantic Farce ; 
 Bruce, a Chronicle Play ; Smith, a Tragic Farce ; 
 Scaramouch in Naxos, a Pantomime, with a Frontis- 
 piece and Cover Design by AUBREY BEARDSLEY. 
 Printed at the Ballantyne Press. 500 copies. Small 
 4to. 75. 6d. net. 
 
 Chicago : Stone & Kimball. 
 
 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES. Fcap. 8vo, buckram. 53. 
 net. f Out of Print at present. 
 
 A RANDOM ITINERARY AND A BALLAD. With a Fron- 
 tispiece and Title-page by LAURENCE HOUSMAN. 
 600 copies. Fcap. 8vo, Irish Linen. 53. net. 
 
 Boston : Copeland & Day. 
 
 BALLADS AND SONGS. With a Title-page and Cover 
 Design by WALTER WEST. Third Edition. Fcap. 
 8vo, buckram. 53. net. 
 Boston : Copeland & Day. 
 
 DAWE (W. CARLTON). 
 
 YELLOW AND WHITE. (See KEYNOTES SERIES.) 
 
 DE TABLEY (LORD). 
 
 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRICAL. By JOHN LEICESTER 
 WARREN (Lord De Tabley). Illustrations and Cover 
 Design by C. S. RICKETTS. Second Edition. 
 Crown 8vo. 73. 6d. net. 
 
 New York : Macmillan & Co. 
 
 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRICAL. Second Series, uni- 
 form in binding with the former volume. Crown 8vo. 
 53. net. 
 New York : Macmillan & Co. 
 
 DIX (GERTRUDE). 
 
 THE GIRL FROM THE FARM. (See KEYNOTES SERIES.) 
 
 DOSTOIEVSKY (F.). 
 
 See KEYNOTES SERIES, Vol. in.
 
 JOHN LANE S 
 
 ECHEGARAY (JOSE). 
 
 See LYNCH (HANNAH). 
 EGERTON (GEORGE). 
 
 KEYNOTES. (See KEYNOTES SERIES.) 
 DISCORDS. (See KEYNOTES SERIES.) 
 YOUNG OFEG'S DITTIES. A translation from the Swedish 
 of OLA HANSSON. Crown 8vo. 35. 6d. net. 
 Boston : Roberts Bros. 
 
 FARR (FLORENCE). 
 
 THE DANCING FAUN. (See KEYNOTES SERIES.) 
 
 FLETCHER (J. S.). 
 
 THE WONDERFUL WAPENTAKE. By 'A SON OF THE 
 SOIL.' With 1 8 full-page Illustrations by J. A. 
 SYMINGTON. Crown 8vo. 55. 6d. net, 
 
 Chicago : A. C. M'Clurg & Co. 
 GALE (NORMAN). 
 
 ORCHARD SONGS. With Title-page and Cover Design 
 by J. ILLINGWORTH KAY. Fcap. 8vo, Irish Linen. 
 5s. net. 
 
 Also a Special Edition limited in number on hand-made paper 
 bound in English vellum. i, is. net. 
 
 New York : G. P. Putnam's Sons. 
 
 GARNETT (RICHARD). 
 
 POEMS. With Title-page by J. ILLINGWORTH KAY. 
 350 copies. Crown 8vo. 53. net. 
 
 Boston : Copeland & Day. 
 
 DANTE, PETRARCH, CAMOENS, cxxiv Sonnets, rendered 
 in English. Crown 8vo. 53. net. [/ preparation. 
 
 GEARY (NEVILL). 
 
 A LAWYER'S WIFE: A Novel. Crown 8vo. 45. 6d. 
 net. [/ preparation. 
 
 GOSSE (EDMUND). 
 
 THE LETTERS OF THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES. Now 
 
 first edited. Pott 8vo. $s. net. 
 
 Also 25 copies large paper, us. 6d. net. 
 
 New York : Macmillan & Co.
 
 THE PUBLICATIONS OF 
 
 GRAHAME (KENNETH). 
 
 PAGAN PAPERS : A Volume of Essays. With Title- 
 page by AUBREY BEARDSLEY. Fcap. 8vo. 53. net. 
 Chicago : Stone & Kimball. 
 
 THE GOLDEN AGE. Crown 8vo. 35. 6d. net. 
 
 Chicago : Stone & Kimball. [In preparation. 
 
 GREENE (G. A.). 
 
 ITALIAN LYRISTS OF TO-DAY. Translations in the 
 original metres from about thirty-five living Italian 
 poets, with bibliographical and biographical notes. 
 Crown 8vo. 55. net. 
 
 New York : Macmillan & Co. 
 
 GREENWOOD (FREDERICK). 
 
 IMAGINATION IN DREAMS. Crown 8vo. 55. net, 
 New York : Macmillan & Co. 
 
 HAKE (T. GORDON). 
 
 A SELECTION FROM HIS POEMS. Edited by Mrs. 
 MEYNELL. With a Portrait after D. G. ROSSETTI, 
 and a Cover Design by GLEESON WHITE. Crown 
 8vo. 55. net. 
 
 Chicago : Stone & Kimball. 
 
 HANSSON (LAURA MARHOLM). 
 
 MODERN WOMEN : Six Psychological Sketches. [Sophia 
 Kovalevsky, George Egerton, Eleanora Duse, Amalie 
 Skram, Marie Bashkirtseff, A. Edgren Leffler]. Trans- 
 lated from the German by HERMIONE RAMSDEN. 
 Crown 8vo. 33. 6d. net. [In preparation. 
 
 HANSSON (OLA). See EGERTON. 
 
 HARLAND (HENRY). 
 
 GREY ROSES. (See KEYNOTES SERIES.) 
 
 HAYES (ALFRED). 
 
 THE VALE OF ARDEN AND OTHER POEMS. With a 
 Title-page and a Cover designed by E. H. NEW. 
 Fcap. 8vo. 35. 6d. net. 
 Also 25 copies large paper. 155. net. 
 
 HEINEMANN (WILLIAM) 
 
 THE FIRST STEP A Dramatic Moment. Small 4to. 
 35. 6d. net.
 
 JOHN LANE 7 
 
 HOPPER (NORA). 
 
 BALLADS IN PROSE. With a Title-page and Cover by 
 WALTER WEST. Sq. i6mo. 55. net. 
 Boston : Roberts Bros. 
 
 HOUSMAN (LAURENCE). 
 
 GREEN ARRAS : Poems. With Illustrations by the 
 Author. Crown 8vo. 55. net. \_ln preparation. 
 
 IRVING (LAURENCE). 
 
 GODEFROI AND YoLANDB : A Play. With three Illus- 
 trations by AUBREY BEARDSLEY. Sm. 4to. 55. net. 
 
 [/ preparation. 
 JAMES (W. P.). 
 
 ROMANTIC PROFESSIONS : A Volume of Essays. With 
 Title - page designed by J. ILLINGWORTH KAY. 
 Crown 8vo. 55. net. 
 
 New York : Macmillan & Co. 
 
 JOHNSON (LIONEL). 
 
 THE ART OF THOMAS HARDY : Six Essays. With Etched 
 Portrait by WM. STRANG, and Bibliography by JOHN 
 LANE. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 55. 6d. net. 
 Also 150 copies, large paper, with proofs of the portrait. i, is. 
 net. 
 New York : Dodd, Mead & Co. 
 
 JOHNSON (PAULINE). 
 
 WHITE WAMPUM : Poems. With a Title-page and Cover 
 Design by E. H. NEW. Crown 8vo. 55. net. 
 
 [In preparation. 
 JOHNSTONE (C. E.). 
 
 BALLADS OF BOY AND BEAK. Sq. 32010. 2s. 6d. net. 
 
 [In preparation. 
 KEYNOTES SERIES. 
 
 Each volume with specially designed Title-page by ADBREY 
 
 BEARDSLEY. Crown 8vo, cloth. 35. 6d. net. 
 Vol. i. KEYNOTES. By GEORGE EGERTON. 
 
 [Sixth edition now ready. 
 
 Vol. ii. THE DANCING FAUN. By FLORENCE FARR. 
 Vol. III. POOR FOLK. Translated from the Russian of 
 F. Dostoievsky by LENA MILMAN. With 
 a Preface by GEORGE MOORE. 
 Vol. iv. A CHILD OF THE A*. By FRANCIS ADAMS.
 
 THE PUBLICATIONS OF 
 
 KEYNOTES 
 
 Vol. v. THE GREAT GOD PAN AND THE INMOST 
 LIGHT. By ARTHUR MACHEN. 
 
 [Second edition now ready. 
 Vol. vi. DISCORDS. By GEORGE EGERTON. 
 
 [Fourth edition now ready. 
 Vol. vn. PRINCE ZALESKI. By M. P. SHIEL. 
 Vol. vin. THE WOMAN WHO DID. By GRANT ALLEN. 
 [Eleventh edition now ready. 
 
 Vol. ix. WOMEN'S TRAGEDIES. By H. D. LOWRY. 
 Vol. x. GREY ROSES. By HENRY HARLAND. 
 Vol. xi. AT THE FIRST CORNER AND OTHER STORIES. 
 
 By H. B. MARRIOTT WATSON. 
 The following Volumes art in rapid preparation. 
 Vol. xii. MONOCHROMES. By ELLA D'ARCY. 
 Vol. xni. AT THE RELTON ARMS. By EVELYN SHARP. 
 Vol. xiv. THE GIRL FROM THE FARM. By GERTRUDE 
 
 Dix. 
 Vol. xv. THE MIRROR OF Music. By STANLEY V. 
 
 MAKOWER. 
 Vol. xvi. YELLOW AND WHITE. By W. CARLTON 
 
 DAWE. 
 Vol. xvii. THE MOUNTAIN LOVERS. By FIONA 
 
 MACLEOD. 
 Vol. xvin. THE THREE IMPOSTORS. By ARTHUR 
 
 MACHEN. 
 
 Boston : Roberts Bros. 
 LANDER (HARRY). 
 
 WEIGHED IN THE BALANCE: A Novel. Crown 8vo. 
 43. 6d. net. [In preparation. 
 
 LANG (ANDREW). 
 
 See STODDART. 
 LEATHER (R. K.). 
 
 VERSES. 250 copies. Fcap. 8vo. 35. net. 
 
 Transferred by the Author to the present Publisher. 
 LE GALLIENNE (RICHARD). 
 
 PROSE FANCIES. With Portrait of the Author by 
 WILSON STEER. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo. Purple 
 cloth. 55. net. 
 
 Also a limited large paper edition. ias. 6d. net. 
 New York : G. P. Putnam's Sons.
 
 JOHN LANE g 
 
 LE GALLIENNE (RICHARD). 
 
 THE BOOK BILLS OF NARCISSUS, An Account rendered 
 by RICHARD LE GALLIENNE. Third Edition. With 
 a Frontispiece. Crown 8vo. Purple cloth. 35. 6d. net. 
 Also 50 copies on large paper. 8vo. IDS. 6d. net. 
 
 New York : G. P. Putnam's Sons. 
 
 ROBERT Louis STEVENSON, AN ELEGY, AND OTHER 
 
 POEMS, MAINLY PERSONAL. With Etched Title-page 
 
 by D. Y. CAMERON. Cr. 8vo. Purple cloth. 45. 6d. net. 
 
 Also 75 copies on large paper. 8ro. I2s.6d.net. [In preparation, 
 
 Boston : Copeland & Day. 
 
 ENGLISH POEMS. Fourth Edition, revised. Crown 8vo. 
 Purple cloth. 45. 6d. net. [In preparation. 
 
 Boston : Copeland & Day. 
 
 RETROSPECTIVE REVIEW^A LITERARY LOG, 1891-1895. 
 Crown 8vo. Purple cloth. 55. net. 
 
 [In preparation. 
 
 GEORGE MEREDITH : Some Characteristics. With a Biblio- 
 graphy (much enlarged) by JOHN LANE, portrait, etc. 
 Fourth Edition. Cr. 8vo. Purple "cloth. 5s.6d.net. 
 
 THE RELIGION OF A LITERARY MAN. 5th thousand. 
 
 Crown 8vo. Purple cloth. 35. 6d. net. 
 Also a special rubricated edition on hand-made paper. 8vo. 
 los. 6d. net. 
 
 New York : G. P. Putnam's Sons. 
 
 LOWRY (H. D.). 
 
 WOMEN'S TRAGEDIES. (See KEYNOTES SERIES.) 
 
 LUCAS (WINIFRED). 
 
 A VOLUME OF POEMS. Fcap. 8vo. 45. 6d. net. 
 
 [In preparation. 
 LYNCH (HANNAH). 
 
 THE GREAT GALEOTO AND FOLLY OR SAINTLINESS. Two 
 Plays, from the Spanish of JOSE ECHEGARAY, with an 
 Introduction. Small 410. 55. 6d. net. 
 
 [In preparation. 
 MACHEN (ARTHUR). 
 
 THE GREAT GOD PAN. (See KEYNOTES SERIES.) 
 THE THREE IMPOSTORS. (See KEYNOTES SERIES.) 
 
 MACLEOD (FIONA). 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN LOVERS. (See KEYNOTES SERIES.)
 
 THE PUBLICATIONS OF 
 
 MAKOWER (STANLEY V.). 
 
 THE MIRROR OF Music. (See KEYNOTES SERIES.) 
 
 MARZIALS (THEO.). 
 
 THE GALLERY OF PIGEONS AND OTHER POEMS. Post 
 8vo. 45. 6d. net. [ Very few remain. 
 
 Transferred by thg Author to tht present Publisher. 
 
 MATHEW (FRANK). 
 
 THE WOOD OF THE BRAMBLES : A Novel. Crown 8vo. 
 45. 6d. net. [In preparation. 
 
 MEREDITH (GEORGE) 
 
 THE FIRST PUBLISHED PORTRAIT OF THIS AUTHOR, 
 engraved on the wood by W. BISCOMBB GARDNER, 
 after the painting by G. F. WATTS. Proof copies on 
 Japanese vellum, signed by painter and engraver. 
 i t is. net. 
 
 MEYNELL (MRS.), (ALICE C. THOMPSON). 
 
 POEMS. Fcap. 8vo. 3s.6d.net. [Out of Print at present. 
 A few of the 50 large paper copies (First Edition) remain, 123. 6d. net. 
 
 THB RHYTHM OF LIFE AND OTHER ESSAYS. Second 
 
 Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 33. 6d. net. 
 A few of the 50 large paper copies (First Edition) remain. 125. 6d. net. 
 
 See also HAKE. 
 
 MILLER (JOAQUIN). 
 
 THE BUILDING OF THE CITY BEAUTIFUL. Fcap. 8vo. 
 With a Decorated Cover. 55. net. 
 Chicago : Stone & Kimball. 
 
 MILMAN (LENA). 
 
 DOSTOIEVSKY'S POOR FOLK. (See KEYNOTES SERIES.) 
 
 MONKHOUSE (ALLAN). 
 
 BOOKS AND PLAYS : A Volume of Essays on Meredith, 
 Borrow, Ibsen, and others. 400 copies. Crown 8vo. 
 5s. net. 
 
 Philadelphia : J. B. Lippincott Co. 
 MOORE (GEORGE). 
 
 See KEYNOTES SERIES, Vol. in. 
 
 NESBIT (E.). 
 
 A POMANDER OF VERSE. With a Title-page and Cover 
 designed by LAURENCE HOUSMAN. Crown 8vo. 
 55. net. \In preparation.
 
 JOHN LANE 
 
 NETTLESHIP (J. T.). 
 
 ROBERT BROWNING : Essays and Thoughts. Third 
 Edition. With a Portrait. Crown 8vo. 55. 6d. net. 
 New York : Chas. Scribner's Sons. 
 
 NOBLE (JAS. ASHCROFT). 
 
 THE SONNET IN ENGLAND AND OTHER ESSAYS. Title- 
 page and Cover Design by AUSTIN YODNG. 600 
 copies. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. 
 Also 50 copies large paper. las. 6d. net. 
 
 O'SHAUGHNESSY (ARTHUR). 
 
 His LIFE AND His WORK. With Selections from his 
 Poems. By LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON. Por- 
 trait and Cover Design- Fcap. 8vo. 55. net. 
 Chicago : Stone & Kimball. 
 
 OXFORD CHARACTERS. 
 
 A series of lithographed portraits by WILL ROTHENSTEIN, 
 with text by F. YORK POWELL and others. To be 
 issued monthly in term. Each number will contain 
 two portraits. Parts I. to VI. ready. 200 sets only, 
 folio, wrapper, 55. net per part; 25 special large 
 paper sets containing proof impressions of the por- 
 traits signed by the artist, IDS. 6d. net per part. 
 
 PETERS (WM. THEODORE). 
 
 POSIES OUT OF RINGS. Sq. i6mo. 35. 6d. net. 
 
 [/ preparation. 
 PISSARRO (LUCIEN). 
 
 THE QUEEN OF THE FISHES. A Story of the Valois, 
 adapted by MARGARET RUST, being a printed manu- 
 script, decorated with pictures and other ornaments, 
 cut on the wood by LUCIEN PISSARRO, and printed 
 by him in divers colours and in gold at his press 
 in Epping. Edition limited to 70 copies, each num- 
 bered and signed. Crown 8vo. on Japanese hand- 
 made paper, bound in vellum, l net. 
 
 PLARR (VICTOR). 
 
 IN THE DORIAN MOOD : Poems. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. 
 
 [In preparation. 
 RADFORD (DOLLIE). 
 
 SONGS AND OTHER VERSES. Fcap. 8vo. 45. 6d. net. 
 
 [In preparation.
 
 THE PUBLICATIONS OF 
 
 RAMSDEN (HERMIONE). 
 See HANSSON. 
 
 RICKETTS (C. S.)AND C. H. SHANNON. 
 
 HERO AND LEANDER. By CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE 
 and GEORGE CHAPMAN. With Borders, Initials, and 
 Illustrations designed and engraved on the wood by 
 C. S. RICKETTS and C. H. SHANNON. Bound in 
 English vellum and gold. 200 copies only. 355. net. 
 Boston : Copeland & Day. 
 
 RHYS (ERNEST). 
 
 A LONDON ROSE AND OTHER RHYMES. With Title-page 
 designed by SELWYN IMAGE. 350 copies. Crown 
 8vo. 5$. net. 
 
 New York : Dodd, Mead & Co. 
 
 ROBINSON (C. NEWTON). 
 
 THE VIOL OF LOVE. With Ornaments and Cover design 
 by LAURENCE HOUSMAN. Crown 8vo. net. 
 
 [In preparation, 
 
 ST. GYRES (LORD). 
 
 THE LITTLE FLOWERS OF ST. FRANCIS : A new ren- 
 dering into English of the Fioretti di San Francesco. 
 Crown 8vo. 53. net. [In preparation. 
 
 SHARP (EVELYN). 
 
 AT THE RELTON ARMS. (See KEYNOTES SERIES.) 
 
 SHIEL (M. P.). 
 
 PRINCE ZALESKI. (See KEYNOTES SERIES.) 
 
 STACPOOLE (H. DE VERE). 
 
 DEATH, THE KNIGHT AND THE LADY. Sq. i6mo. 
 2s. 6d. net. [In preparation. 
 
 STEVENSON (ROBERT LOUIS). 
 
 PRINCE OTTO. A Rendering in French by EGERTON 
 CASTLE. Crown 8vo. $s. net. [In preparation. 
 Also ioo copies on large paper, uniform in size with the Edinburgh 
 Edition of the Works. 
 
 STODDART (THOS. TOD). 
 
 THE DEATH WAKE. With an Introduction by ANDREW 
 LANG. Fcap. 8vo. net. [In preparation.
 
 JOHN LANE 13 
 
 STREET (G. S.). 
 
 THB AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A BOY. Passages selected by 
 his friend G. S. S. With Title-page designed by 
 C. W. FORSE. Fcap. 8vo. 35. 6d. net. 
 
 [Fourth Edition now ready. 
 Philadelphia : J. B. Lippincott Co. 
 
 MINIATURES AND MOODS. Fcap. 8vo. 33. net 
 
 Transferred by tht Author to the present Publisher. 
 
 SWETTENHAM (F. W.). 
 
 MALAY SKETCHES. Crown 8vo. $s. 6d. net. 
 
 [In preparation. 
 TABB (JOHN B.). 
 
 POEMS. Sq. 32mo. 45. 6d. net. 
 Boston : Copeland & Day. 
 
 TENNYSON (FREDERICK). 
 
 POEMS OF THE DAY AND YEAR. Crown 8vo. 53. net. 
 
 [In preparation. 
 THIMM (C. A.). 
 
 A COMPLETE BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE ART OF FENCE, 
 DUELLING, ETC. With Illustrations. 
 
 [In preparation. 
 THOMPSON (FRANCIS). 
 
 POEMS. With Frontispiece, Title-page, and Cover Design 
 by LAURENCE HOUSMAN. Fourth Edition. Pott 
 4to. 55. net. 
 
 Boston : Copeland & Day. 
 
 SONGS WING-TO- WING : An Offering to Two Sisters. 
 Pott 4to. 55. net. [In preparation. 
 
 TYNAN HINKSON (KATHARINE). 
 
 COCKOO SONGS. With Title-page and Cover Design by 
 LAURENCE HOUSMAN. Fcap. 8vo. 53. net. 
 
 Boston : Copeland & Day. 
 MIRACLE PLAYS. [In preparation. 
 
 WATSON (ROSAMUND MARRIOTT). 
 
 VESPERTILIA AND OTHER POEMS. With a Title-page 
 designed by R. ANNING BELL. Fcap. 8vo. 45. 6d. 
 net. [In preparation, 
 
 WATSON (H. B. MARRIOTT). 
 
 Ax THE FIRST CORNER. (See KEYNOTES SERIES.)
 
 *4 THE PUBLICATIONS OF 
 
 WATSON (WILLIAM). 
 
 ODES AND OTHER POEMS. Fourth Edition. Fcap. 8vo, 
 buckram. 43. 6d. net. 
 
 New York : Macmillan & Co. 
 
 THE ELOPING ANGELS: A Caprice. Second Edition. 
 Square i6mo, buckram. 35. 6d. net. 
 
 New York : Macmillan & Co. 
 
 EXCURSIONS IN CRITICISM : being some Prose Recrea- 
 tions of a Rhymer. Second Edition. Cr. 8vo. 5s.net. 
 
 New York : Macmillan & Co. 
 
 THE PRINCE'S QUEST AND OTHER POEMS. With a 
 Bibliographical Note added. Second Edition. Fcap. 
 8vo. 43. 6d. net. 
 WATT (FRANCIS). 
 
 THE LAW'S LUMBER ROOM. Fcap. 8vo. 35. 6d. net. 
 
 [In preparation. 
 WATTS (THEODORE). 
 
 POEMS. Crown 8vo. 53. net. {In preparation. 
 
 There will also be an Edition de Luxe oj this volume printed at 
 
 the Kelmscott Press. 
 WELLS (H. G.). 
 
 SELECT CONVERSATIONS WITH AN UNCLE, SINCE 
 DECEASED. With a Title-page designed by F. H. 
 TOWNSEND. Fcap. 8vo. 35. 6d. net. [In preparation. 
 WHARTON (H. T.). 
 
 SAPPHO. Memoir, Text, Selected Renderings, and a 
 Literal Translation by HENRY THORNTON WHARTON. 
 With three Illustrations in photogravure, and a Cover 
 designed by AUBREY BEARDSLEY. Fcap. 8vo. 
 7s. 6d. net. [In preparation. 
 
 THE YELLOW BOOK 
 
 An Illustrated Quarterly 
 
 Vol. I. Fourth Edition, 272 pages, 15 Illustrations, Title-page, 
 and a Cover Design. Cloth. Price $s. net. Pott 4/0. 
 
 The Literary Contributions by MAX BEERBOHM, A. C. BENSON, 
 HUBERT CRACKANTHORPE, ELLA D'ARCY, JOHN DAVID- 
 SON, GEORGE EGERTON, RICHARD GARNETT, EDMUND 
 GOSSE, HENRY HARLAND, JOHN OLIVER HOBBES, HENRY 
 JAMES, RICHARD LE GALLIENNE, GEORGE MOORE, 
 GEORGE SAINTSBURY, FRED. M. SIMPSON, ARTHUR 
 SYMONS, WILLIAM WATSON, ARTHUR WAUGH.
 
 JOHN LANE 15 
 
 The Art Contributions by Sir FREDERIC LEIGHTON, P.R.A., 
 AOBREY BEARDSLEY, R. ANNING BELL, CHARLES W. 
 FURSE, LAURENCE HOUSMAN, J. T. NETTLESHIP, JOSEPH 
 PENNELL, WILL ROTHENSTEIN, WALTER SICKERT. 
 
 Vol. II. Third Edition. Pott 4(0, 364 pages, 23 Illustrations, 
 and a New Title-page and Cover Design. Cloth. Price $s. net. 
 
 The Literary Contributions by FREDERICK GREENWOOD, 
 ELLA D ARCY, CHARLES WILLEBY, JOHN DAVIDSON, 
 HENRY HARLAND, DOLLIE RADFORD, CHARLOTTE M. 
 MEW, AUSTIN DOBSON, V., O., C. S., KATHARINE DE 
 MATTOS, PHILIP GILBERT HAMERTON, RONALD CAMP- 
 BELL MACFIE, DAUPHIN MEUNIER, KENNETH GRAHAME, 
 NORMAN GALE, NETTA SYRETT, HUBERT CRACKAN- 
 THORPE, ALFRED HAYES, MAX BEERBOHM, WILLIAM 
 WATSON, and HENRY JAMES. 
 
 The Art Contributions by WALTER CRANE, A. S. HARTRICK, 
 AUBREY BEARDSLEY, ALFRED THORNTON, P. WILSON 
 STEER, JOHN S. SARGENT, A.R.A., SYDNEY ADAMSON, 
 WALTER SICKERT, W. BROWN MACDOUGAL, E. J. 
 SULLIVAN, FRANCIS FORSTER, BERNHARD SICKERT, 
 and AYMER VALLANCE. 
 
 A Special Feature of Volume II. is a frank criticism of 
 the Literature and Art of Volume I. by PHILIP GILBERT 
 HAMERTON. 
 
 Vol. III. Third Edition. Now Ready. Pott 4*0, 280 pages, 
 15 Illustrations, and a New Title-page and Cover Design. 
 Cloth. Price $s. net. 
 
 The Literary Contributions by WILLIAM WATSON, KENNETH 
 GRAHAME, ARTHUR SYMONS, ELLA D*ARCY,JOSE MARIA 
 DE HEREDIA, ELLEN M. CLERKE, HENRY HARLAND, 
 THEO MARZIALS, ERNEST DOWSON, THEODORE WRATIS- 
 LAW, ARTHUR MOORE, OLIVE CUSTANCE, LIONEL JOHN- 
 SON, ANNIE MACDONELL, C. S., NORA HOPPER, S. 
 CORNISH WATKINS, HUBERT CRACKANTHORPE, MORTON 
 FULLERTON, LEILA MACDONALD, C. W. DALMON, MAX 
 BEERBOHM, and JOHN DAVIDSON. 
 
 The Art Contributions by PHILIP BROUGHTON, GEORGB 
 THOMSON, AUBREY BEARDSLEY, ALBERT FOSCHTER, 
 WALTER SICKERT, P. WILSON STEER, WILLIAM HYDE, 
 and MAX BEERBOHM.
 
 16 THE PUBLICATIONS OF JOHN LANE 
 
 Vol. IV. Second Edition. Now Ready. Pott 4/0, 285 pages, 
 1 6 Full-page Illustrations. With New Title-page and 
 Cover Designs and a Double-page Supplement by Aubrey 
 Beardsley. Price $s. net. 
 
 The Literary Contributions by RICHARD LE GALLIENNE, 
 HENRY HARLAND, GRAHAM R. TOMSON, H. B. MARRIOTT 
 WATSON, DOLF WYLLARDE, MENIE MURIEL DOWIE, 
 OLIVE CUSTANCE, JAMES ASHCROFT NOBLE, LEILA MAC- 
 DONALD, C. S., RICHARD GARNETT, VICTORIA CROSS, 
 CHARLES SYDNEY, KENNETH GRAHAME, C. NEWTON 
 ROBINSON, NORMAN HAPGOOD, E. NESBIT, MARION HEP- 
 WORTH DIXON, C. W. DALMON, EVELYN SHARP, MAX 
 BEERBOHM, and JOHN DAVIDSON. 
 
 The Art Contributions by H. J. DRAPER, WILLIAM HYDE, 
 WALTER SICKERT, PATTEN WILSON, W. W. RUSSELL, 
 A. S. HARTRICK, CHARLES CONDER, WILL ROTHENSTEIN, 
 Miss SUMNER, P. WILSON STEER, and AUBREY BEARDS- 
 LEY. 
 
 Vol. V. Now Ready. Pott 4/0, pages, 16 Full-page Illus- 
 trations and New Title-page and Cover Designs. Price $s. 
 net. 
 
 The Literary Contributions by WILLIAM WATSON, H. D. 
 TRAILL, RICHARD LE GALLIENNE, ELLA D'ARCY, ROSA- 
 MUND MARRIOTT- WATSON, KENNETH GRAHAME, HENRY 
 HARLAND, DAUPHIN MEUNIER, MRS. MURRAY HICKSON, 
 EDMUND GOSSE, CHARLES KENNETT BURROW, LEILA 
 MACDONALD, HUBERT CRACKANTHORPE, ERNEST WENT- 
 WORTH, C. S., G. S. STREET, NORA HOPPER, JAMES 
 ASHCROFT NOBLE, B. PAUL NEUMAN, EVELYN SHARP, 
 W. A. MACKENZIE, MRS. ERNEST LEVERSON, RICHARD 
 GARNETT, MAURICE BARING, NORMAN GALE, ANATOLE 
 FRANCE, and JOHN DAVIDSON. 
 
 The Art Contributions by E. A. WALTON, R. ANNING BELL, 
 ALFRED THORNTON, F. G. COTMAN, P. WILSON STEER, 
 A. S. HARTRICK, ROBERT HALLS, WALTER SICKERT, 
 CONSTANTIN GUYS, and AUBREY BEARDSLEY. 
 
 Prospectuses Post Free on Application. 
 
 LONDON : JOHN LANE 
 BOSTON : COPELAND & DAY
 
 JUN 1 6
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LI! 
 
 A 000 700 366 8