_The work of revision has reminded me that_, _small as is this book of mine_, _it is all in the matter of verse that I have to show for the years between_ 1872 _and_ 1897. _A principal reason is that_, _after spending the better part of my life in the pursuit of poetry_, _I found myself_ (_about_ 1877) _so utterly unmarketable that I had to own myself beaten in art_, _and to addict myself to journalism for the next ten years_. _Came the production by my old friend_, _Mr. H. B. Donkin_, _in his little collection of_ ‘_Voluntaries_’ (1888), _compiled for that East-End Hospital to which he has devoted so much time and energy and skill_, _of those unrhyming rhythms in which I had tried to quintessentialize_, _as_ (_I believe_) _one scarce can do in rhyme_, _my impressions of the Old Edinburgh Infirmary_. _They had long __since been rejected by every editor of standing in London—I had well-nigh said in the world_; _but as soon as Mr. Nutt had read them_, _he entreated me to look for more_. _I did as I was told_; _old dusty sheaves were dragged to light_; _the work of selection and correction was begun_; _I burned much_; _I found that_, _after all_, _the lyrical instinct had slept—not died_; _I ventured_ (_in brief_) ‘_A Book of Verses_.’ _It was received with so much interest that I took heart once more_, _and wrote the numbers presently reprinted from_ ‘_The National Observer_’ _in the collection first_ (1892) _called_ ‘_The Song of the Sword_’ _and afterwards_ (1893), ‘_London voluntaries_.’ _If I have said nothing since_, _it is that I have nothing to say which is not_, _as yet_, _too personal—too personal and too a afflicting—for utterance_. _For the matter of my book_, _it is there to speak for itself_:— ‘_Here’s a sigh to those who love me_ _And a smile to those who hate_.’ _I refer to it for the simple pleasure of reflecting that it has made me many friends and some enemies_. _W. E. H._ _Muswell Hill_, 4_th_ _September_ 1897. CONTENTS