98 PEP ACTON 



although he has written some fine naturalistic 

 poems, as his "Rain in Summer," and others. 

 When his fancy is taken, he does not always stop 

 to ask, Is this so? Is this true? as when he 

 applies the Spanish proverb, "There are no birds 

 in last year's nests," to the nests beneath the eaves; 

 for these are just the last year's nests that do con- 

 tain birds in May. The cliff swallow and the barn 

 swallow always reoccupy their old nests, when they 

 are found intact; so do some other birds. Again, 

 the hawthorn, or whitethorn, field-fares, belong to 

 English poetry more than to American. The ash 

 in autumn is not deep crimsoned, but a purplish 

 brown. "The ash her purple drops forgivingly," 

 says Lowell in his " Indian-Summer Reverie." 

 Flax is not golden, lilacs are purple or white and 

 not flame-colored, and it is against the law to go 

 trouting in November. The pelican is not a wader 

 any more than a goose or a duck is, and the golden 

 robin or oriole is not a bird of autumn. This 

 stanza from "The Skeleton in Armor" is a striking 

 one: — 



" As with his wings aslant, 

 Sails the fierce cormorant, 

 Seeking some rocky haunt, 



"With his prey laden, 

 So toward the open main, 

 Beating to sea again, 

 Through the wild hurricane, 



Bore I the maiden." 



But unfortunately the cormorant never does any- 

 thing of the kind; it is not a bird of prey: it is 

 web-fpoted, a rapid swimmer and diver, and lives 



