was, I looked to see if the editor had
explained: but no, all he said was that Dixon was fond of such words.

He added that others such as Stroom, Graith, and Agraffe appeared in his
poems.

But he didn't print those poems in this collection, or explain those
strange names.

The sound of them fascinated me. I sat there and dreamed for a while;
and it was out of these dreamings that I wrote that verse at the head
of this essay. Some stern and vast mystery seemed to me about to enfold.
What part the Agraffe played in it (a mediaeval beast I imagined) I could
not know, could not guess. But I pictured a strong-hearted Stroom to
myself as some hero, waging far, lonely fights, against foes on the edge
of the skies; and I dreamed of how Vega stood waiting, until Stroom
married Graith, and of how at the height of his majesty she inflicted
her doom--a succession of abhorrent rebirths as a grotesque little
dwarf.

[Illustration: Where the doteril cries]

Still, these were only my imaginings, and I wanted the records. I sent
to the public library, and got out all of Dixon they had. Great red and
gold volumes. But the one that I wanted--not there.... I sent to several
famous universities.... It was not to be found.

I turned my search over to an obliging old friend, a librarian, and sat
down feeling thwarted, to console myself with some other poet. There
were many in Volume V of the English Poets, but not a one of them calmed
me. I read restlessly every day, waiting to hear about Stroom. Then at
last, one rainy evening, a telegram came! It was from that old friend.
"Have found all those words Dixon used, in a dialect dictionary. It
gives: 'Stroom: rightly strom: a malt strainer, a wicker-work basket or
bottle, placed under the bunghole of a mash-tub to strain off the hops.'
Mr. Dixon used it because he loved its sound, I suppose. As to Graith,
it means 'furniture, equipment, apparatus for traveling.' And agraffes
are the ornamented hooks used to fasten Knights' armor. They are
mentioned in Ivanhoe."

Well, poets are always disappointing me.

I don't know why I read them.

* * * * *

However, having bought Volume V to read, I tried to keep on with it.

I read what it said about Browning's father being a banker. Poor old
man, I felt sorry for him. Imagine the long years when he and his son
faced each other, the old father telling himself hopefully, "Ah, well,
he's a child, he'll get over t