SPEING POEMS 113 



What fiery force the earth renews, 

 The wealth of forms, the flush of hues ; 

 What joy in rosy waves outpoured 

 Flows from the heart of Love, the Lord." 



But tliis is not spring in the blood. Among the 

 works of our young and rising poets, I am not cer- 

 tain but Mr. Gilder's "New Day" is entitled to 

 rank as a spring poem in the sense in which I am 

 speaking. It is full of gayety and daring, and full 

 of the reckless abandon of the male bird when he 

 is winning his mate. It is full also of the tantaliz- 

 ing suggestiveness, the half-lights and shades, of 

 April and May. 



Of prose poets who have the charm of the spring- 

 time upon them, the best recent example I know 

 of is Bjijrnson, the Norwegian romanoist. What 

 especially makes his hooks spring-like is their fresh- 

 ness and sweet good faith. There is also a reticence 

 and an unwrought suggestiveness about them that 

 is like the promise of buds and early flowers. Of 

 Turgenieff, the Russian, much the same thing might 

 be said. His stories are simple and elementary, 

 and have none of the elaborate hair-splitting and 

 forced hot-house character of the current English or 

 American novel. They spring from stronger, more 

 healthful and manly conditions, and have a force in 

 them that is like a rising, incoming tide. 



