dication of the new position that woman holds in society? War has always fallen heavily on the children and the mothers, and such poems as Ella Wheeler Wilcox's "The Messenger" have always been part of man's comment on the tragedy of battle. But in some of these poems the injustice that war does to womanhood is defined in a new way, with the implication that the tragedy might be avoided, and that women will no longer accept it as inevitable. So at least one may read the verses by Edith M. Thomas and those by Edna Valentine Trapwell. As in the rest of this collection the emphasis is upon the right of the common man to enjoy life, peace and safety, so in these fine poems the emphasis is upon woman's right to decide whether she will pay the penalty that war always exacts of her. These are the attitudes that are most clearly discovered in these verses. As a whole the collection represents, so to speak, the nation's first impression of the war. It should have value as evidence of our instinctive reaction at a moment so searching. Columbia University. JOHN ERSKINE.} ABRAHAM LINCOLN WALKS AT MIDNIGHT BY VACHEL LINDSAY It is portentous, and a thing of state Or by his homestead, or the shadowed yards A bronzed, lank man! His suit of ancient black, He cannot sleep upon his hillside now. Breathe deep, and start, to see him pass the door. His head is bowed. He thinks on men and kings. The sins of all the war-lords burn his heart. He carries on his shawl-wrapt shoulders now He cannot rest until a spirit-dawn Shall come; the shining hope of Europe free; It breaks his heart that kings must murder still, Springfield, Illinois. -The Independent. THE NEW BEATITUDE BY RICHARD BUTLER GLAENZER In gay Brabant I have danced till the night turned rose, In Picardy plain through which all joyance flows Like the tranquil Somme; and churches beautify Every hamlet with noble shrines that spell repose; With poppies amid ripe wheat, I hear the sigh: In Prussia the proud, whose boundaries enclose Full many a fireside happy once to vie In soft content with any home that owes Its worth to toil and thrift, now gone awry; Yea, in proud Prussia, not only those that fly The Cossack, but women secure from death or blow,- ENVOY Lord Prince of Peace, who for men's sins didst die, -The Bookman. THE MAD WAR BY RICHARD BUTLER GLAENZER Because one man, one man, was slain- They have no cruel wrong to right, Austria's heir was killed by plan! A ruler's death to punish? Then, Attila and his wolfish Huns, We read of them as horror past: Ponder how Death now bares his teeth, The vanquished torn and crushed beneath War... this red madness of an hour Whelped from base fear by baser pride Unbalanced by its lust for power? The mailed fist defied! One group of three who fraternise To-day, though once close locked in hate, To thwart another three must rise, Christians, they prate of "Triplices" The civilised! The civilised!- And well may smile the pagan Mars Harken, vain Europe Nay, your ears Can only hear your shout "To arms!" Deaf to your women's pleading tears, Your children's dazed alarms. Yet could you hear, and heed the roar -The Bookman. WAR BY WITTER BYNNER Fools, fools, fools, Your blood is hot to-day. It cools When you are clay. It joins the very clod Wherein your foe shall be,— Wherein you look at God, Wherein at last you see The living God, Which was your enemy. -The Nation. |