LIBER'S NOTEBOOK.

Dominion, Volume 12, Issue 68, 14 December 1918, Page 11

LIBER'S NOTEBOOK.

A'Poom by W. P. Reeves. ■ From the offices-of "Tho. British Australasian" comes n copy, of the special .Summer Number of. Iliaf now old-estab-lished 'journal. It is an excellent production, ivell illustrated, and eontuinim, , articles, and stories by several wellknown '.Australian writers, .including Barbara Baynton, Albert Dorriugtou, Will Ogilvie, and others. An ex-mem-ber of Tire , Dominion literary etalf, Litmtenniit Drew, , contributes an interesting description of the New Zealand eoldiers' farm settlement, .near Torquay. To mo, however, the- most notable- feature on the literary 'Mde. is a new poem by iny old friend tlie Hon.'-W. P. Reeves. ex-Higli ..Commissioner. . I pin afmid that to the younger geiierntion of Nr-w Zealaiuleri? that .exquisit , / jjbnnf, "The Passing of the Forest," ihe and dignified "Rivers of Diimascus," and tlie . eonoroinly beautiful , -sonnet, on "Egmont," which Mr. Reeves wrote in his younger days, ore. not so well known as they ought'™ toe" 'That the onetime Minister of Labour can slill write verse of u rare arid delionlo r-liarm is proved by Jii =s"conlribiitinn to tlie "Hritlsh Austrnlflsiaii." 11: is a wnr-poom, entitled "The Mutter of the duns" (written on a Kentish. Hill-top, July 2-1, 1!)17). I feel sure my readers will IliDiik me for reproducing.this lieautiful poem in. full. Those who possess o copy of the .flomoffhat rare little pnper-lwked volume of Mr. Rieovos'»."l'o;:ins" will do well to-paelo the now poem therein. Tho loggard, waknful night lias brouuht a morning cool and brief; ■ The.sunlight sleeps tinon. the-woods where flutterß not a -loaf: .- . It ie a, Truce of find; yet hark! a murmur comes to me, Tho growling of the clcenless buiis aerops the narrow sea. Few are tho white clouds, motionless fieckinp: the blue nerciui; Thoeo sheep, their wool dnw-sprinltlwl yet. lie t|iiiet on the green; Only 'with (inll throbs, on and on, Ijrrak jarrih2 In from for Tho torturing, unresting guns that slay the sheep of war. Now like fierce bursting snlm they sound, a giant's, punting breath, Who deals with lonp mechanic swills tin: fearful blows of Dnilli; Now ns wlicm drad voli'/iiioes wal;o' mid boiling Urea are hurled, And listening cities catch ar.ir tho roar that shakes their world.

Here 'iicatli the blue ami silver, .vnul.i, wlieie BhiniiiK clouds are still, I wall:, tin- soli- Hca.i-t-tronlilivl Ihiiis on this untroubled hill: ■ Rerttig on. : UH-ac ltyif-BOflcned slopes of green and golden plan, Thn deep t-nuuiuillily of Life'iibidilTi'reiice to man. ... . '

.Mown like the (jrass.. cut lib' the flower, (lucnr-lied liltu wiml-sniiitiMi light-,■ Our laughiiur lu-ro sons are gone-youth into ancii'iit- niglit-i And the pxla mourn, who Rave- tiicm life and hope of life for dower, As little as Mu- mowers'tall, clridins '»'er grass (iiidllowci , . •:

They slopp, nor lio.ir the pun?, our bravo; Iho gods givo rest, lint w< — . Oms is Ihn nmvs that fomea to-kill.across Hi:! carolciis sea. We who to shvi! hail jpywl to die, yet jesting liid our fears. ' '• , ' Stretiih to the niijht fond, liamia nml call the lost with tears.

These hills that drink the sunlight,. In, those birds whoso pipings flow. Like the high gods they kiiow.not. grinf, nor carp' when heroes ki> : But man—,'twixt God' end '' carln-can grieve; s,o I wniU here, aijarl, ' The thudding of .thn fatal guns still knocking on- ray heart.

-W. V. .KcnvoK.It is iio be hojjfd .that Sir. •'Reeves, though still a busy man as .Director- of London School, cif Bcnnonries, niny find time to give us other nopins in -tlio same line strain of oombinnl dignity of, thought and verbal ki'.V". , . Stray Leaves. The new complete edition of J. -il. Barrio's plays, now in cuiir.se of publication by Hodder and' Stoughtoii, is well' printed and artistically produced, but at 3s. (id. (Is. fid. here) seems to be somewhat high priced. 1 shall invest, however, in "Tho Admirable Crichtoii," in which, I flunk, Barl-ie's quaint and subtly ironical humour is at. its. best. At his best Barrio- is, to my mind, a playwright: as good to read as Shaw or ClrnnviDo Barker, and a long way■ superior to I'inero. When "The Second ' Mrs. Tamruei-ay" .ind "M"iin and Superman" are forgotten, tliero elioukl still bo readers for "Tho Admirable Criehton" and "VV.hat Every Woman Knows." ■ But 1 wish the plays were published,-, say, at two shillings. Perhaps, when paper gets a lit tie, cheaper, wo may get nit edition iit that price, Tho autumn and winter 'programmes of the leading English publishers include «' large number of works dealing with various phases and aspects of the war, but now that the great .struggle , is.over publishing"enterprise .will, Liaiicy, eeiitro round the problem .of reconstruction. Already the bcok.sellws report a substantial falling oil' in the demand for even the best war books, jind, unless'l am mistake;), a large proportion of fhjeso now , being'published will speedily find their way into the. list of "remainders," -and bo sold at much lower prices than thoso at which they were published. ' ■ Those- who., like "Liber;" remember with pleasure the clover writings of the the lato il. 11.. Munixi, better known under his noin , de plume-'of "Suki,",\viU be iiitere.stal (o -hear filial: a postliunious volume of stories' and.'-..essays from "Saki's" pen. is shortly to! be published by John' Lane.' . ■ .... .-,.- '

What ought to prove ,an exceptionally niterestiiig-book is a vuluine entitled "For Jttmeuibrance: Soldier Poct.s who have Fallen in the War," whicli Uoii'der and Stoiigliton promise for early publication. The author, Mr. A.- St. John Adcock, assodate. editor o!" "The liookman," deals with the'lives-ami-piirsrn-alilies of forty-four poets'who have-mado the supreme sacrifice,..and reveals from their poems the ideals for which they fought and the hope in:which they died. Stephen Graham's latest'book, "The Quest of the Face," is' a 00110011011 cf essays, mainly retlecfing' the aiithor'e mystical point of view. on. religion. One essay deals with the alleged failure, cf the great painters to paint Christ:' They all , miss,, lie contends, any i-xpression ff tho "Miraculous Christ." "Nevertheless," he says,' "I fqrvontly believe that Christ is to be found in the- faces of the living. Christ walks perdu- among tho flocking crowds, and I might find Him in a. human face. His face lufks in the face of someone who has.passed me."'. ■ Some industrious delver in old.poetry has unearthed the following qnqtntion from Campbell.'s "Pleasures of Hope" us being of special interest to-day:— .- "All ills have- hounds—plague, whirlwind, fire; and Hood; ■ • : E'en power can Bpill but bounded sums of hlood, •-.-:.■ -■-. '■■ States caring not what freedom's price may be .- May late or soon, but must at last bo free; ' " For body-killing tyrnnta cannot, kill .. The public soul—tho hereditary will That downward as from siro to 6on it goes, ])y EhiftiiiK bosoms mure intensely slows; Its heirloom is the heart, -and' slaughtered / men ■ Fight fiercer in their orphans o'er again." In "Guynemer, Knight of tho Air," M. Henri Bordeaux, the well-known French novelist, tells the' story of the famous French airman's daring exploits. Kipling contributes a preface to the English edition.