a volume of "Six Love Songs," containing
half a dozen flawless gems it is a pity the public should not know
more widely. A later book, "Eight Songs" (op. 47), is also a cluster
of worthies. The lilt and sympathy of "The Robin Sings in the
Apple-tree," and its unobtrusive new harmonies and novel effects, in
strange accord with truth of expression, mark all the other songs,
particularly the "Midsummer Lullaby," with its accompaniment as
delicately tinted as summer clouds. Especially noble is "The Sea,"
which has all the boom and roll of the deep-brooding ocean.

His collections of flower-songs (op. 26) I confess not liking. Though
they are not without a certain exquisiteness, they seem overdainty
and wastefully frail, excepting, possibly, the "Clover" and the
"Blue-bell." It is not at all their brevity, but their triviality,
that vexes an admirer of the large ability that labored over them.
They are dedicated to Emilio Agramonte, one of MacDowell's first
prophets, and one of the earliest and most active agents for the
recognition of the American composer.

In the lyrics in opus 56 and opus 58 MacDowell has turned song to the
unusual purposes of a landscape impressionism of places and moods
rather than people.

For men's voices there are some deftly composed numbers curiously
devoted to lullaby subjects. The barcarolle for mixed chorus and
accompaniment on the piano for four hands obtains a wealth of color,
enhanced by the constant division of the voices.

Studying as he did with Raff, it is but natural that MacDowell should
have been influenced strongly toward the poetic and fantastic and
programmatic elements that mark the "Forest Symphony" and the "Lenore
Overture" of his master.

It is hard to say just how far this descriptive music can go. The
skill of each composer must dictate his own limits. As an example of
successful pieces of this kind, consider MacDowell's "The Eagle." It
is the musical realization of Tennyson's well-known poem:

"He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls."

Of course the crag and the crooked hands and the azure world must be
granted the composer, but general exaltation and loneliness are
expressed in the severe melody of the opening. The wrinkling and
crawling of the sea far below are s