His face wore a look of eager joy, and he opened his arms wide. Alicia flew into them, and her brown head was on his breast.

At that moment, clear and vibratingly sweet, close over them, came the matchless song of the veery.

THE END.

MY ARCADY

(To former pupils, after reading Wordsworth's
Ode on Immortality)

By Eugene R. Musgrove

Again I take the great Ode from its place
And yield myself to its majestic sway.
Across the page the same old glories play,
And "trailing clouds of glory" I retrace
The gifts that glorify the commonplace;
For tho we all like sheep have gone astray,
Still Faith's unerring finger points the way
With clearness that our doubts can not efface.

But lo! today new "clouds of glory" come.
Transfigured by the light of memory:

In letters that would strike Belshazzar dumb
Your names are flashed-with joy, with joy I see,
And in my Arcady I count the sum

Of all the nameless things you are to me.

We shall begin in the February Granite Monthly the publication of "Homespun Yarns from the Red Barn Farm" partly fact and partly fiction, but in both respects giving as true a picture of rural New Hampshire 70 years ago as ever was printed, in our

opinion. The author, Mrs. Zillah George Dexter, of Franconia, draws upon the experiences of her own girlhood among the mountains for much of her manuscript and the results seem to us most interesting and enjoyable.

THE RESURRECTION OF THE SHIPS
By Reignold Kent Marvin

The tides of Rivermouth at God's behest
Sweep clean New Hampshire's seaport day by day
And like good servants let no refuse stay,
But broom it far to sea, now east, now west.
So deep the thresh of tides, there is no rest
For sunken skeletons of ships and men
That ever grind in restless graves and then
Moan low for quiet beds of bones more blest.
But when at last the sea gives up its dead,-
A risen fleet well manned by ghostly crew,
The Spanish galleon and East Indian bark,
A phantom argosy by Nereus led,-

Will set worn sails the voyage to renew
To sunset harbors gleaming through the dark.

BOOKS OF NEW HAMPSHIRE INTEREST

Anthologies of Magazine Verse for 1920 and 1921. Edited by William Stanley Braithwaite. Boston: Small, Maynard and Co.

These two years, William Stanley Braithwaite has more than maintained his position as the nation's most brilliant critic of poetry. He has “discovered" many American poets that otherwise might have still been singing in obscurity, he knows the field of modern poetical endeavor as no other man on this side of the water, his appraisals and reviews are just, his opinions well founded, his annual collections of magazine verse quite unequalled among all modern anthologies. And in making these selections from the year's output of periodical verse, Mr. Braithwaite renders double service, on the one hand bringing the poets to the public, on the other bringing the public to the poets. His selections will curry favor with no particular group of stylists, will please no one cult. The are, in their way, well nigh universal. Conceivably, no one will enjoy every bit of verse in the anthology, but agree or disagree, it must be admitted that rarely have there been made selections so excel

Hazel Hall continues her even way,
Elinor Wylie springs from nowhere
to add no small bit to the output of
'21. Sara Teasdale, Katharine Lee
Bates, John Gould Fletcher, Mrs.
Richard Aldington, Robert Frost,
John Hall Wheelock, Edgar Lee Mas-
ters, Amy Lowell, Scudder Middle-
ton, Gamaliel Bradford, Edward O'
Brien, Edwin Arlington Robinson,
Clement Wood, Christopher Morley
and Charles Wharton Stock appear
and reappear through the two years.
Amanda Benjamin Hall, Agnes Lee
and Djuna Barnes, all promising
figures of 1920, have nearly dropped
from sight; to take their places come
Miss Wylie, John V. A. Weaver, and
Adul Tima, claiming first brilliance
this year, perhaps to be forgotten the

next.

lently impartial. To collect the best in magazine verse year by year can be no small task, yet for his part, Mr. Braithwaite is quite equal to it. His former anthologies are accurate mirrors of the poetic trend of those times, in fact the student of American poetical progress in the Twentieth Century can do no better than read them through. They will teach him much that the ordinary book cannot.

Even two such closely linked years as those of 1920 and 1921 offer interesting comparison. Some of the voices of last year are silent; others take their place. David Morton on the one hand and Edna St. Vincent Millay on the other, seem the two finest youthful lutanists of the day,

Moreover, in the back of the Anthology lurk yet new poets of the future, not a few of them identified with the Granite Monthly prize contest, perhaps making their first public appeartherein. Many of them, it seems, will go far. Next year will undoubtedly see some few honored on Mr. Braithwaite's pages.

ance

Of the output of 1920, Mrs. Aldington's "The Islands," Miss A. B. Hall's "Dancer," Mr. Morton's "Garden Wall," Louis Ginsberg's "April," Miss Millay's lyrics and Sara Teasdale's, Conrad Aiken's "Asphalt,' Margaret Adelaide Wilson's "Babylon," Mr. Masters' "A Republic," Miss Lee's "Old Lizette," Mr. Untermyer's "Auction," and Miss Barnes "Dead Favorite," seemed the best. The pattern of 1921 is entirely different; of them all, Miss Millay, Miss Teasdale, Mr Morton alone may match their excellences of the former year. The pick of the new collection seems Maxwell Anderson's "St Agnes' Morning." Katharine Lee Bates' "Brief Life," H. D.'s fragments of