Hoag made an extended tour of the United States; beholding the scenic wonders of the West, and studying the condition of mankind all over the nation. He saw a sunset from Pike's Peak, talked with old Geronimo, that last relic of aboriginal savagery, and accumulated a new fund of beauty and lore to animate his literary products. It is quite possible that the exceptionally powerful impression made on him by the awesome peaks and canyons that lay along his course, was the basic impulse behind that renewed poetical flow which shines forth in these pages and which is still flourishing with undiminished lustre. The force of that impression can be attested by all readers of the Greenwich (N.Y.) Journal who followed "Scribe's" series of graphic prose articles on the subject.
Late in 1915 Mr. Hoag received his final impulse toward continuous and systematic literary production through his advent to the miniature world of "amateur journalism"; a group of societies formed for the encouragement of the non-professional litterateur, and possessing an amateur press whose columns welcome all qualified comers. Availing himself of the various departments of criticism and encouragement, our bard began to turn out a finished product whose form fully sustained its matter, and which followed correctly those poetical traditions to which he was naturally inclined. The results may be seen in this volume; where the general classification, as shown in the table of contents, exhibits the various directions taken by the author's Muse. Much of this work is of nocturnal origin, inspired by dreams or waking visions of the darkness, and set to paper as quickly as possible. Scarcely anything is studied or premeditated, since "Scriba" sings for the most purely artistic of reasons—because he cannot help it! Awe, reminiscence, beauty-worship, sorrow, speculation, wonder—any of the countless impulses may move him; and when once moved, he cannot but express himself with that simple and spontaneously selective poignancy which is the truest art. And so he is today, at the age of ninety-two; expressing out of a long life of taste, thought, beauty, honour, and virtue, those images so thoroughly yet delicately coloured by the career they reflect. He resides at "Vista Buena," his delightful village home in Greenwich, New York, where with his son and grandchildren he weaves his dreams, while Dionondawa's cataract pours ceaseless music on his ears.
The poetry of Mr. Hoag is distinguished by a Doric purity and simplicity which, together with the reflective tranquility and occasional domestic touches, affiliate it conclusively with the earlier American school. It is fresh, Colonial, and free from self-conscious ornamentation. It has escaped not only the abyss of modernism, but the hothouse of Victorian preciosity and affectation as well; keeping the ancient verbal austerity as Bryant kept it, and holding also not a little of that eighteenth-century
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