is two poems, "Consolation" and "To Celia",
though widely different in structure, are yet not unrelated in
sentiment, being both devoted to the changing heart. One amateur critic
has seen fit to frown upon so skilled an apotheosis of inconsistency,
but it seems almost captious thus to analyse an innocuous bit of art so
daintily and tastefully arrayed. "To Celia" is perhaps slightly the
better of the two, having a very commendable stateliness of cadence, and
a gravity of thought greater than that of "Consolation".

"The Horizon of Dreams", by Mrs. Renshaw, is a graphic and enthralling
venture into the realm of nocturnal unreality. The free play of active
imagination, the distorted and transitory conceptions and apparitions,
and the strangely elusive analogies, all lend charm and color to this
happy portrayal of the vague boundaries of Somnus' domain. Mrs.
Renshaw's rank as a poet is of very high tone, most of her productions
involving a spiritual insight and metaphysical comprehension vastly
beyond that of the common mind. But this very nobility of imagination,
and superiority to the popular appeal, are only too likely to render her
best work continually underestimated and unappreciated by the majority.
She is not a "poet of the masses", and her graver efforts must needs
reach audiences more notable for cultured than numerical magnitude. Of
Mrs. Renshaw's liberal metrical theories, enough is said elsewhere. This
Department can neither endorse principles so radical, nor refrain from
remarking that want of proper rhyme and metre has relegated to obscurity
many a rich and inspired poem.

"Departed", by Maude Kingsbury Barton, is a sentimental poem of
undoubted grace and sweetness, happily cast in unbroken metre.

* * * * *

=The Coyote= for January is adorned by no less than three of Mrs.
Winifred V. Jordan's exquisite short poems. "The Night-Wind" is a
delicately beautiful fragment of dreamy metaphor. There is probably a
slight misprint in the last line, since the construction there becomes
somewhat obscure. "My Love's Eyes" has merit, but lacks polish. The word
"azure" in the first stanza, need not be in the possessive case; whilst
the use of a singular verb with a plural noun in the second stanza
(smiles-beguiles) is a little less than grammatical. "Longing" exhibits
the author at her best, the images and phraseology alike showing the
touch of genius.

Other poetry in this issue is by