In closing this study we must take a glance at two recent volumes, one containing the poetry of Mr Seumas O'Sullivan and the other Mr Cousins' latest work. Mr O'Sullivan's book is curiously interesting, inasmuch as it unites certain contrasted qualities which are found separately in the other poets we have been considering. Thus, this poet is 'literary' in the sense of knowing and loving good books, in his familiarity with the old literature of his country, and in the fact that those things have had a palpable influence upon him. Temperamentally he is an artist, with the artistic instinct to subordinate everything to the beauty of his work. But he is also like the more 'popular' poets in his lyrical gift and in the range and depth of his sympathies; so that his collected poems of 1912 may be regarded in some degree as an epitome of modern Irish poetry. There you will find work which indicates that its author might have lived very happily in a visionary world of æsthetic delight. He might have chosen always to sing about gods and heroes and fair ladies with "white hands, foam-frail." But, just as clearly, you will see that he has been aroused from dreams. Vanishing remnants of them are perceptible in such a piece as "The Twilight People"; and when they are gone, in that serene moment before complete awakening, when the light is growing and the birds call and a fresh air blows, you get a piece like "Praise": Dear, they are praising your beauty, The grass and the sky: The sky in a silence of wonder, The grass in a sigh. I too would sing for your praising, Dearest, had I Speech as the whispering grass, Or the silent sky. These have an art for the praising Beauty so high. Sweet, you are praised in a silence, Sung in a sigh. Then comes the awakening, sudden and sharp, with an impulse to spring out and away from those old dreams of myth and romance: Bundle the gods away: Richer than Danaan gold, The whisper of leaves in the rain, The secrets the wet hills hold.