O Sheel’s two volumes, _The Blossomy Bough_ (1911) and _The Light Feet of Goats_ (1915), owe their chief impetus to the Celtic renascence and to W. B. Yeats in particular. But O Sheel’s poetry, although influenced, is not merely derivative. His ancestry speaks through him with unmistakable accents; he is typically the Irish bard of whom Chesterton has written: For the great Gaels of Ireland Are the men that God made mad; For all their wars are merry And all their songs are sad. A recurring if sometimes too determined mysticism and a muffled heroism individualize the best of his work. THEY WENT FORTH TO BATTLE, BUT THEY ALWAYS FELL They went forth to battle, but they always fell; Their eyes were fixed above the sullen shields; Nobly they fought and bravely, but not well, And sank heart-wounded by a subtle spell. They knew not fear that to the foeman yields, They were not weak, as one who vainly wields A futile weapon; yet the sad scrolls tell How on the hard-fought field they always fell. It was a secret music that they heard, A sad sweet plea for pity and for peace; And that which pierced the heart was but a word, Though the white breast was red-lipped where the sword Pressed a fierce cruel kiss, to put surcease On its hot thirst, but drank a hot increase. Ah, they by some strange troubling doubt were stirred, And died for hearing what no foeman heard. They went forth to battle, but they always fell; Their might was not the might of lifted spears; Over the battle-clamor came a spell Of troubling music, and they fought not well. Their wreaths are willows and their tribute, tears; Their names are old sad stories in men’s ears; Yet they will scatter the red hordes of Hell, Who went to battle forth and always fell. _Roy Helton_ Roy Helton was born at Washington, D. C., in 1886. He graduated from the University of Pennsylvania in 1908. He studied art—and found he was color-blind. He spent two years at inventions—and found he had no business sense. After a few more experiments, he became a schoolmaster in West Philadelphia. Helton’s first volume, _Youth’s Pilgrimage_ (1915), is a strange, mystical affair, full of vague symbolism with a few purple patches. _Outcasts in Beulah Land_ (1918) is entirely different in theme and treatment. This is a much starker verse; a poetry of city streets, direct and sharp. IN PASSING