s. "There's None
Like Mine at Home", by James Laurence Crowley, is a characteristic bit
of Crowleian sentimentality which requires revision and condensation.
There is not enough thought to last out three stanzas of eight lines
each. Technically we must needs shudder at the apparent incurable use of
"m-n" assonance. "Own" and "known" are brazenly and repeatedly flaunted
with "roam" and "home" in attempted rhyme. But the crowning splendour of
impossible assonance is attained in the "Worlds-girls" atrocity. Mr.
Crowley needs a long session with the late Mr. Walker's well-known
Rhyming Dictionary! Metrically, Mr. Crowley is showing a decided
improvement of late. The only censurable points in the measure of this
piece are the redundant syllables in lines 1 and 3, which might in each
case be obviated by the substitution of "=I've=" for "=I have=", and the
change of form in the first half of the concluding stanza. Of the
general phraseology and imagery we may only remark that Mr. Crowley has
much to forget, as well as to learn, before he can compete with Mr.
Kleiner or other high-grade amatory poets in the United. Such
expressions as "my guiding star", "my own dear darling Kate", or "she's
the sweetest girl that e'er on earth did roam", tell the whole sad story
to the critical eye and ear. If Mr. Crowley would religiously eschew the
popular songs and magazine "poetry" of the day, and give over all his
time to a perusal of the recognized classics of English verse, the
result would immediately be reflected in his own compositions. As yet,
he claims to be independent of scholarly tradition, but we must remind
him of the Latin epigram of Mr. Owen, which Mr. Cowper thus translated
under the title of "Retaliation":

"The works of ancient bards divine,
Aulus, thou scorn'st to read;
And should posterity read thine,
It would be strange indeed!"

So energetic and prolific a writer as Mr. Crowley owes it alike to
himself and to his readers to develop as best he can the talent which
rests latent within him.

* * * * *

=The Woodbee= for April opens with a melodious poem by Adam Dickson,
entitled "Love". While the metre might well be changed in the interests
of uniformity, the general effect is not at all harsh, and the author is
entitled to no small credit for his production. The only other poem in
the magazine is "Alone With Him", by Mrs. Ida C. Haughton. This piece is
remarkable f