effect of reading Ledwidge is that which he describes in a poem dedicated to M. McG. ("Who came one day when we were all gloomy and cheered us with sad music").
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"Old memories knocking at each heart
Troubled us with the world's great lie:
You sat a little way apart
And made a fiddle cry.
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And rivers full of little lights
Came down the fields of waving green:
Our immemorial delights
Stole in on us unseen."
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The delight with which a child first perceives beauty, though it be forgotten, must never be barred and shuttered from return into the mind by coarsening habit or humbling care. If this happens, the enchantment of poetry is powerless. And as Antæus' strength was increased whenever his feet touched the earth, æsthetic power revives when these primordial joys return into the lofty buildings of a master mind; and should these smiling visitors desert it finally, however noble the building, its charm grows cold; so important is this love of particular things and particular aspect of things to the mind. This tenderness over detail means more to poetry and painting than the theorist easily allows. Though perceived as a flash on the surface, this is a pulse of health that, having made youth perfect, can recreate maturity and old age. Everything that exists is holy, or at least demonic, when seen as a new and solitary portent; thus it appears first to the child, and must reappear to inspire the artist.
In these small books, those whom the war has hurried too much and too long, and those whom it has deafened and sickened with evil sounds and evil sights, may find a well of refreshment suitable to a convalescent mood that has not the energy to appreciate more elegant, noble or
