[Footnote: 'The Old Huntsman,' Dutton & Co., 1918.] This book secured instantaneous success. Siegfried Sassoon, on its publication, became one of the leading young poets of England. The book begins with the long monologue of a retired huntsman, a piece of remarkable characterisation. It continues with all the best of the 'paradise' poems, including the loveliest in 'Discoveries' and 'Morning Glory.' There are also the 'bridge' poems between his old manner and his new such as the 'To Victory' mentioned above. But interspersed among the paradise poems are the first poems in his final war style. He tells the story of the change in a characteristic manner--Conscripts (page 51, 'The Old Huntsman'). For like nearly every one of the young English poets, he is to some extent a humourist. His humour is not, however, even through 'The Old Huntsman' all of such a wise and gentle tenor. He breaks out into lively bitterness in such poems as 'They,' 'The Tombstone Maker' and 'Blighters.' CONSCRIPTS "Fall in, that awkward squad, and strike no more "Attractive attitudes! Dress by the right! "The luminous rich colours that you wore "Have changed to hueless khaki in the night. "Magic? What's magic got to do with you? "There's no such thing! Blood's red and skies are blue." They gasped and sweated, marching up and down. I drilled them till they cursed my raucous shout. Love chucked his lute away and dropped his crown. Rhyme got sore heels and wanted to fall out. "Left, right! Press on your butts!" They looked at me Reproachful; how I longed to set them free! I gave them lectures on Defence, Attack; They fidgeted and shuffled, yawned and sighed, And boggled at my questions. Joy was slack, And Wisdom gnawed his fingers, gloomy-eyed. Young Fancy--how I loved him all the while-- Stared at his note-book with a rueful smile. Their training done, I shipped them all to France. Where most of those I'd loved too well got killed. Rapture and pale Enchantment and Romance, And many a sickly, slender lord who'd filled My soul long since with litanies of sin. Went home, because they couldn't stand the din. But the kind, common ones that I despised, (Hardly a man of them I'd count as friend), What stubborn-hearted virtues they disguised! They stood and played the hero to the end, Won gold and silver medals bright with bars, And marched resplendent home with crowns and stars.