departing as it does from the general scheme of the third lines, and rendering it necessary to make “soul” bisyllabic in order to carry the metre smoothly, and in accord with its companion verses. “Spirit” would have fitted the metrical exigency better, leaving the final unaccented syllable as in the majority of the lines, but would not have lent itself to repetition in the succeeding line as does “soul,”—so “who shall arbitrate”? Mr. Roberts rarely offends the ear in his metres, but instead his cadences are notably true. Aside from the poems upon love, filling the first division of _The Book of the Rose_ it has a miscellaneous group, of which the two that best represent it, to my fancy, are so widely diverse that their mere mention in juxtaposition is amusing; nevertheless they are the lines “To An Omar Punch Bowl,” and the reverent Nativity Song, “When Mary, the Mother, Kissed the Child.” The haunting couplets of the former are by no means of the convivial sort, but the essence of memory and desire, the pathos of this dust that is but “wind that hurries by,”—is in them. However, to be quoted, they need their full context, as does the Nativity Song mentioned. Mr. Roberts has a rare sympathy with childhood, and a gift of reaching the hearts of the little ones; the “Sleepy Man” and “Wake-up Song” could scarcely be improved; note the picturing in the former and the drowsihood in its falling cadences: When the Sleepy Man comes with the dust on his eyes (Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!) He shuts up the earth, and he opens the skies. (So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!) He smiles through his fingers, and shuts up the sun; (Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!) The stars that he loves he lets out one by one. (So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!) He comes from the castles of Drowsy-boy Town; (Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!) At the touch of his hand the tired eyelids fall down. (So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!) * * * * * Then the top is a burden, the bugle a bane, (Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!) When one would be faring down Dream-a-way Lane. (So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!) When one would be wending in Lullaby Wherry (Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!) To Sleepy Man’s Castle by Comforting Ferry. (So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!)