Leading Articles in the Reviews. 



527 



POETRY IN THE PERIODICALS. 



There is much t-xcellent reading in the .\pril num- 

 ber of East and West. We quote from a poem of 

 some distinction contributed by Miss M. L. Forbes : — 



For no one has the truth alone. 'Twas given 



To all alike, lest any man should boast, 

 Written for ages in the starry heaven, 



Where sun and moon lead round the counllos^ host. 

 \'et see we now those sacred pages riven, 



And every priest perverting from the truth, 

 Regarding not the heavenly decrees, 



Slaves to their own destroying fantasies. 

 Acknowledging indeed a power divine. 



But worshipping and blessing unafraid. 

 Despite the error, and despite tlie crime. 



Some lesser god, that lesser hands have made. 

 In Christian lands the custom is the same, 



We worship Mammon in that holy Name. 



The Children's Theatre. 

 Mr. Arthur Stringer writes in the Century for April 

 on the theatre for children, which until recently the 

 N'fw York Educational Alliance maintained in the 

 heart of the East Side. Folklore plays and the simpler 

 forms of drama were given : — 



Wide-eyed and wistful, with the dream 

 Still on their faces, with the gleam 

 Of lost romance still in their gaze, 

 I used to watch them through the haze 

 Of falling night. I used to see 

 Thi: while brows touched with mystery, 

 The startled faces greet once more 

 The city's million-lhroated roar. 



I used to watch them creep again 

 < lut to their ghostlike world of pain. 

 To find at last some beauty in 

 Th'' dark and undeciphercd din 

 Of life that thundered close about 

 The casual lives it trampled out. 

 Aye, child by wistful child they Hirned 

 Where dull the yellow street-lamps burned, 

 And for a breath they caught the gleam. 

 Ami for a moment dreamed the dream ! 



In Memori.\m. 



The Slate contains a notable poem on Cecil John 

 Rhodes bv Willi^im Filanp. from whiih we r|iiiit<' si.nir 

 \crses : — 



(ireat 'on of lin;;Iaii(l ! .Africa called him, 



.Strengthened, inspired him, and ravished his soul ; 



With her sad sinry she won and enlhralle<l him. 

 Stirred and impelled him to serve and control 



N'l-t from a selli-h or sordid ambition 



Dreamt he of empire— in continents thought — 



His the response Ki thai mystic tuition 



I'rom the great throb of the universe caught. 



.Steadfast of purpose and strong as the founl.iins 

 Where the dark Nile and the deep Congo rise, 



C.ilm as the misi in the lap of the mountains 

 Where in the scnlplurclc-ss gr.inilu he lies. 



What if he erred, in creation untiring? 



ICver to fnilings the faithful have ciwned ; 

 Noble the fills c.f unselfish .aspiring ! 



Greatly he crreil, m.l Imw croatlv nt.io^-.i \ 



Prince of her patriots .-Vfric has crowned him ! 



Strong in her heroes his spirit shall glow. 

 Long as the moveless Matopos surround him, 



Long as the mighty Zambesi shall flow. 



The Tree-Pl.\nter's Prayer. 



Mr. Walter Malone publishes in the April Scribner's 

 a " Prayer Before Planting Trees," from which the 

 following lines may be taken : — 



But on this day. 

 In lowly imitation of lliine own 

 f'arenial care, we plant these infant trees 

 To be a blessing in the far-off years 

 Unto our children and our children's children, 

 When we ourselves shall tread the e.irlh no more. 

 Unselfish in thy bounty, thou hast strewn 

 Blessings around us, though partaking not 

 Thyself of that abundance which thy hand 

 Alone created. In the bygone years. 

 To please us thou hast reared thy goodly trees, 

 Glowing with fruitage, spre.iding green with shade, 

 Or cluslerctl with deliglusome odorous blooms. 

 Shall we thy largess take with selfish ease, 

 .And not in some small way, though feeble, seek 

 To emulate thy goodness, and bequeath 

 Unlo succeeding generations gifts 

 We never can share ourselves ? O God of Love, 

 Make us unselfish in this task : our hearts 

 Uplift ; and move our hands to speed with joy 

 In this, our labour, whereby we shall seek 

 To bless the lives of others yet to come. 

 When we ourselves have mingled with the dust 

 Wherein we plant these trees. 



the: PARADISE OF GARDENS. 

 In the Century for April Miss E. R. Scidmore 

 describes the famous gardens of Kioto. She says : — 



Kioto, that city of the soul, is the paradise of lovers of 

 landscape art. For more than a thousand years the greatest 

 gardeners wrought their masterpieces there, and their creations 

 endure. The city, lying in the long, level valley of the 

 Kamogawa, has an admirable landscape setting, the continuous 

 wooded hills on the east and west converging and breaking 

 into the foot-hills of the noble mountain that dominates the 

 north, to form a composition worthy of the greatest of land- 

 scape artists. .Along the base of the eastern hills stretches a 

 five-mile chain of temples, monasteries, and villas, each with a 

 garden or many gardens ivithin its walls. On the other side of 

 the city there is another such combination of religious and land- 

 scape beauty three miles in length. In addition, there are 

 innumerable palace and temple gardens distributed over the 

 level city. One temple compound covers twenty acres, and its 

 eighteen monasteries have many separate garden-courts. 



(iardcn-making has always been classed as .an art (bijiilsu, 

 beauiy-craft), and it is a living art, .as vital to-day as for all the 

 twelve hundred years that Kioto has been the scat of religion 

 and the arts, of learning and all luxury. In Japan everyone 

 loves gardens, knows gardens, and makes gardens. The 

 Japanese landscape-garden is purely a work of art, constructed 

 after a definite scheme and plan, ordered by fixed conventions, 

 every detail .as much a mailer of pre-arrangeinent as the strategy 

 of a military campaign. Like the Jnpanese p.iinting, it aims to 

 express the spirit, the soul, the scniiment ot a landscape ; and 

 while it is conventional and the product i-f arbitrary arrange- 

 ment, it is yet nature — nature idealised, lamed, trained, and 

 brought to perfect scale and harmony. It is a great lan<lsca|>c 

 in miniature. The landscape-artist composes his garden as a 

 paint'-r composes his picture, careluUy considering proportion, 

 balance, harmony, lines, masses, and colour tones ami values. 

 Nothing is done or arrived at by chance, for all experiments 

 were rnncludcd long ago 



