232 
NATURE NOTES. 
things, the sonnet on Gilbert White which was reproduced in these pages,* and 
which we are glad to find in the book now before us ; and we are glad to find 
that the appreciation which we publishedt of the earlier work is more than justi- 
fied by this volume of Poems. Mr. Norman Gale’s Coimtry Muse was noticed at 
p. 32, and already his orchard has yielded another crop of fruit. The names 
of their publishers are sufficient guarantee that the two volumes are beautifully 
printed and “ turned out.” 
In a short preface, which makes us anxious to know more of his prose, Mr. 
Benson directs us to that “ large region of simple facts and quiet experiences” 
of which he seems to us a singularly true exponent. “ The almond-tree blooms, 
the rook strides over the new-turned furrow, and the streams hurry through the 
meadows with a singular indifference to the promises of Socialism and the mysteries 
of Home Rule ; ” and in these, and in things like these, which Mr. Benson por- 
trays with pre-Raphaelite accuracy, he finds matter for thoughtful reflection — 
perhaps a little too thoughtful at times in relation to the subject which calls it 
forth. As we said when noticing his earlier volume, he does not draw his 
inspiration from the ordinary subjects of a poet’s attentions ; the mole, the beetle 
and the toad among animals, and the knapweed, the fritillary, and (not so 
happily) the dandelion among plants, are types of his selection. He describes the 
various aspects of Nature with keen appreciation ; and the following poem, which 
should shortly be seasonable, shows the accuracy of his delineations : — 
“HIDDEN LIFE. 
“ The turf is marble underfoot. 
The fountain drips with icy spears ; 
And round about the cedar’s root 
The hungry blackbird pecks and peers. 
“ The mud that rose beside the wheel 
In liquid flake, stands stiff and hard ; 
Unbroken lies the dinted heel. 
With icy streaks the rut is barred. 
“ Behind the knotted black tree-tops 
The solemn sunset waning burns. 
The pheasant mutters in the copse 
And patters through the crackling ferns. 
“ Yet down below the frozen rind 
The silent waters creep and meet ; 
The roots press downwards unconfined. 
Where deeper burns the vital heat. 
“ As when the summer sky is clear. 
And heat is winking on the hill. 
The swimmer rests beside the weir 
To feel the fresh luxurious chill, 
“So earth lies still beneath the night. 
And takes no thought of wintry woe. 
She shudders with a keen delight 
And nestles in her robe of snow.” 
Mr. Norman Gale’s verses are more concerned with the external aspect of 
things, and his reflections are more simple and obvious. His notes are sweet 
and true, but they have not the depth of Mr. Benson’s, and there is less variety 
in his utterances. Whether he is writing about milkmaids, birds, trees (especially 
cherry trees), or flowers, there is a bright sunshiny feeling about his verses, such 
as one feels on a Spring day when the leaves and blossoms have had time to 
unfold, but before their freshness has begun to deepen into summer hues. War- 
wickshire and the Cotswolds are the places of his delight, and his Selbornian 
* p. 83. 
t p. 88. 
