Knowledge is in an inchoate state as long as it is capable of logical treatment; it must be transmitted into that sense or instinct which rises altogether above the sphere in which words can have being at all, otherwise it is not yet vital.--Samuel Butler in _Life and Habit_. Lines for Two Futurists ARTHUR DAVISON FICKE Why does all of sharp and new That our modern days can brew Culminate in you? This chaotic age's wine You have drunk--and now decline Any anodyne. On the broken walls you stand, Peering toward some stony land With eye-shading hand. Is it lonely as you peer? Do you never miss, in fear, Simple things and dear, Half-remembered, left behind? Or are backward glances blind Here where the wind Round the outposts sweeps and cries-- And each distant hearthlight dies To your peering eyes?... I too stand where you have stood; And the fever fills my blood With your cruel mood. Yet some backward longings press On my heart: yea, I confess My soul's heaviness. Me a homesick tremor thrills As I dream how sunlight fills My familiar hills. Me the yesterdays still hold-- Liegeman still unto the old Stories sweetly told. Into that profound unknown Where the earthquake forces strown Shake each pilèd stone Look; and exultance smites Me with joy; the splintered heights Call me with fierce lights. But a piety still dwells In my bones; my spirit knells Solemnly farewells To safe halls where I was born-- To old haunts I leave forlorn For this perilous morn. Yet I come! I cannot stay! Be it bitter night, or day Glorious,--your way I must tread; and on the walls, Where this flame-swept future calls To fierce miracles, Lo, I greet you here! But me Mock not lightly. I come free-- But with agony. A New Winged Victory _Angel Island_, by Inez Haynes Gillmore. [Henry Holt and Company, New York.] _Angel Island_ is several rare things: original, profound, flaming. It leaves you with a gasping sense of having been swept through the skies; and also with that feeling of new life which comes with a plunge into cold, deep seas. _Angel Island_ is a new kind of Winged Victory! Innumerable books have been written about the conflict of the sexes, about the emergence of the new woman. Most of them are dull books. But Mrs. Gillmore's is beautiful and exciting. I kept thinking as I read it: here is something absolutely new, absolutely authentic; something so full of vision and truth that it's like getting to the top of a mountain for the sunrise. Its freshness and its clearness are like cool morning mists that the sun has shot through.