The Listeners | Page 8

grieved her mind,
No memory her bosom stirred,

Nor dreamed she, as she read to two,
'Twas surely three who heard.
Yet when, the story done, she smiled
From face to face, serene and
clear,
A love, half dread, sprang up, as she
Leaned close and drew
them near.
AGES AGO
Launcelot loved Guinevere,
Ages and ages ago,
Beautiful as a bird
was she,
Preening its wings in a cypress tree,
Happy in sadness, she

and he,
They loved each other so.
Helen of Troy was beautiful
As tender flower in May,
Her
loveliness from the towers looked down,
With the sweet moon for
silver crown,
Over the walls of Troy Town,
Hundreds of years
away.
Cleopatra, Egypt's Queen,
Was wondrous kind to ken,
As when the
stars in the dark sky
Like buds on thorny branches lie,
So seemed
she too to Antony,
That age-gone prince of men.
The Pyramids are old stones,
Scarred is that grey face,
That by the
greenness of Old Nile
Gazes with an unchanging smile,
Man with
all mystery to beguile
And give his thinking grace.
HOME
Rest, rest--there is no rest,
Until the quiet grave
Comes with its
narrow arch
The heart to save
From life's long cankering rust,

From torpor, cold and still--
The loveless, saddened dust,
The jaded
will.
And yet, be far the hour
Whose haven calls me home;
Long be the
arduous day
Till evening come;
What sureness now remains
But
that through livelong strife
Only the loser gains
An end to life?
Then in the soundless deep
Of even the shallowest grave
Childhood
and love he'll keep,
And his soul save;
All vext desire, all vain

Cries of a conflict done
Fallen to rest again;
Death's refuge won.
THE GHOST
Peace in thy hands,
Peace in thine eyes,

Peace on thy brow;

Flower of a moment in the eternal hour,
Peace with me now.

Not a wave breaks,
Not a bird calls,
My heart, like a sea,
Silent
after a storm that hath died,
Sleeps within me.
All the night's dews,
All the world's leaves,
All winter's snow

Seem with their quiet to have stilled in life's dream
All sorrowing now.
AN EPITAPH
Here lies a most beautiful lady,
Light of step and heart was she;
I
think she was the most beautiful lady
That ever was in the West
Country.
But beauty vanishes; beauty passes;
However rare--rare it
be;
And when I crumble, who will remember
This lady of the West
Country?
'THE HAWTHORN HATH A DEATHLY SMELL'
The flowers of the field
Have a sweet smell;
Meadowsweet, tansy,
thyme,
And faint-heart pimpernel;
But sweeter even than these,

The silver of the may
Wreathed is with incense for
The Judgment
Day.
An apple, a child, dust,
When falls the evening rain,
Wild briar's
spicèd leaves,
Breathe memories again;
With further memory
fraught,
The silver of the may
Wreathed is with incense for
The
Judgment Day.
Eyes of all loveliness--
Shadow of strange delight,
Even as a flower
fades
Must thou from sight;
But oh, o'er thy grave's mound,
Till
come the Judgment Day,
Wreathed shall with incense be
Thy
sharp-thorned may.
_The Third Edition, Revised and Enlarged, of_

THE HOME BOOK OF VERSE
COMPILED BY
BURTON E. STEVENSON
has been revised from end to end--590 poems have been added, pages
renumbered, author, title, and first line indices, and the biographical
matter corrected, etc., etc.
The hundreds of letters from readers and poets suggesting additions or
corrections as well as the columns of reviews of the first edition have
been considered. Poets who were chary of lending their support to an
unknown venture have now generously permitted the use of their work.
This edition includes the "new" poets such as MASEFIELD,
CHESTERTON, FROST, RUPERT BROOKE, DE LA MARE,
RALPH HODGSON, etc.
"A collection so complete and distinguished that it is difficult to find
any other approaching it sufficiently for comparison."--_New York
Times Book Review_ on the first edition.
_India Paper, 4,096 pages_
_Cloth, one volume,_
_Cloth, two volumes,_
_Half Morocco, one
volume,_
_Half Morocco, two volumes,_
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
JEAN-CHRISTOPHE
_By ROMAIN ROLLAND_
Translated from the French by GILBERT CANNAN. In three volumes,
each $1.50 net.
This great trilogy, the life story of a musician, at first the sensation of

musical circles in Paris, has come to be one of the most discussed
books among literary circles in France, England and America.
Each volume of the American edition has its own individual interest,
can be understood without the other, and comes to a definite
conclusion.
_The three volumes with the titles of the French volumes included
are:_
JEAN-CHRISTOPHE
Dawn--Morning--Youth--Revolt
JEAN-CHRISTOPHE IN PARIS
The Market
Place--Antoinette--The House
JEAN-CHRISTOPHE: JOURNEY'S END
Love and
Friendship--The Burning Bush--The New Dawn
_Some Noteworthy Comments_
"Hats off, gentlemen--a genius.' · One may mention
'Jean-Christophe'
in the same breath with Balzac's 'Lost Illusions'; it is as big as that. · It
is moderate praise to call it with Edmund Gosse 'the noblest work of
fiction of the twentieth century'. · A book as big, as elemental, as
original as though the art of fiction began to-day. . We have nothing
comparable in English literature. · "--_Springfield Republican._
"If a man wishes to understand those devious currents which make up
the great, changing sea of modern life, there is hardly a single book
more illustrative, more informing and