‘Spring!--the breezy spinster, sour-apple green, Acidulous virgin, lengthy and lean, And all our red-flannelled days at an end....’ or the familiar lines from ‘Decayed Trades,’ with all its quaint symbolism: ‘Weary of butchers with hands as heavy as lead, And fruiterers, fulsome as their old wares; Weary of bakers, sweaty with paste, and seemingly dead To all higher things, to all nobler cares.’ Though opinions may differ as to the value of the ‘No Verb’ manner, none can deny the beauty of the verse in _Nullity_. Indeed, the only just complaint that can be urged against Grigsby in this volume concerns itself with the note of pessimism that undoubtedly finds its way into the majority of the poems. But this, I have reason to know, was not the result of a foolish pose; Grigsby has always been too sincere an artist for that; but he himself was journeying through the ‘valley of the shadow’ at the time when the book was written, and the verses are the genuine expression of his moods and thoughts. There is no trace of pessimism or bitterness in his later work. It was shortly after the appearance of _Nullity_, if my memory serves me, that I met the poet for the first time. I had dropped into the habit of looking in at Ivorstein’s studio, and it was on one of my visits there that I found a group of artists and men of letters listening intently to a tall, slim young man in their midst. He was declaiming, if I remember rightly, against Miss Sylvia Sylcox, the popular poetess, whose _Noughts and Kisses_ was then going through edition after edition. The speaker was no other than Grigsby; and when afterwards I had the fortune to make my way homewards in his company, I counted myself a lucky man. Nor was I wrong, for after years of--what he has been good enough to call--friendship, my admiration for the artist is only equalled by my respect for the man. A brilliant conversationalist, witty yet always kindly, with a fund of just comment upon authors living and dead always to hand, I know no man of letters who makes such a genial, wise companion. But this is by the way. A little later, the great happiness of his life came to him, his marriage, which in itself did not a little to widen his outlook and touch his work to even finer issues. The lady of his choice, who has proved herself an invaluable helpmate and a very charming hostess, was Miss Cecilia Snorks, daughter of the late Canon Snorks, and herself the writer of two well-known books, _Humble Hearts in Many Mansions_ and _The Heptameron Retold for Children_. But we must pass lightly over the next few years, during which time, however, Grigsby’s pen was not idle. He published two slim volumes, _Palomides and Other Poems_ and _Buckingham: A Tragedy_, which did not attract so much attention as _Nullity_, but yet commanded respect and doubtless added to their author’s reputation. Also, as before, he was engaged in periodical work, for the most part critical