The mere objective delight of the earlier time has grown steadily into the subjective identity with every manifestation of the Force that operates within this world of wonder and beauty, from the soul of man, shaping his ideals and creating his environment, to the butterfly whose sun-painted wings, set afloat in the buoyant air, are upheld by the breath of God. Coming into the finer knowledge, through long intimacy with the earth and its multitudinous life, fulfilling itself in joy,—Mr. Carman has come at length to readjust The logic of the dust, and to shape from it a creed and law for his following, which he has put into the mouth of Saint Kavin for expounding. The opening stanzas of the volume give the setting and note: Once at St. Kavin’s door I rested. No sigh more Of discontent escaped me from that day. For there I overheard A Brother of the Word Expound the grace of poverty, and say: Thank God for poverty That makes and keeps us free, And lets us go our unobtrusive way, Glad of the sun and rain, Upright, serene, humane, Contented with the fortune of a day. The poem follows simple, but no less picturesque phrase, as becomes Saint Kavin, and is, from the technical side, quaint and artistic. On the philosophical, it develops at first the initial thought that one shall “keep his soul” Joyous and sane and whole by obeying the word That bade the earth take form, the sea subside, and that When we have laid aside Our truculence and pride, Craven self-seeking, turbulent self-will,— we shall have found the boon of our ultimate striving,—room to live and let our spirits grow, and give of their growth and higher gain to another. Here is the giving that turns to one’s own enrichment: And if I share my crust, As common manhood must, With one whose need is greater than my own, Shall I not also give His soul, that it may live, Of the abundant pleasures I have known? And so, if I have wrought, Amassed or conceived aught Of beauty, or intelligence or power, It is not mine to hoard; It stands there to afford Its generous service simply as a flower. The poem then broadens into a dissertation upon the complexities of life, one’s servitude to custom and “vested wrong,” the lack of individual courage to Live by the truth each one of us believes, and turns, for illustration of the nobler development and poise, back to nature, and the evolutionary round of life through which one traces his course and kinship. These stanzas are among the finest spoken by the wise Brother of the Word. After citing the strength and serenity of the fir-trees, and what a travesty upon man’s ascent it were, did one bear himself less royally than they, he adverts to the creature kin-fellows whose lot we have borne: