555 
TIIE A M ERICAN-SCA N1) IN A V IAN REVIEW 
For within it blazes forever 
A fire that melts the ice. 
There have I a haven of refuge 
From lowering storm clouds ill. 
Though ice close the ancient pathways. 
And snows the old shelters fill. 
THE ARROW AND THE SONG 
By Iv.N. 
I shot once an arrow up into the air. 
And whither it sped forth I had not a care; 
But, a rook that was perched on a lofty tree 
Somt swift-soaring aeroplane deemed it to be. 
And after the arrow I sent forth a lay 
Quite slight, but direct through the air went its way; 
And a rook that was perched on a refuse heap 
His eyes on the swift-coursing song scarce could keep. 
Both arrow and lay somewhat later I met; 
My meeting with them I can never forget. 
Lo, my song like a vagrant was wand’ring round. 
My barb in the breast of a friend lodged I found. 
OUR NATIVE TONGUE 
By Iv.N. 
Though our forefathers' language us dowers 
With lyre tones and singing-birds' calls. 
With the sounds that abide in fell-bowers. 
With rhythms of the oceans and falls, 
Still I deem that their English is sweeter. 
More pleasing and charming—Note why: 
In the range of our tongue did you meet e'er 
A word that could signify “pie"? 
TWO WAYFARERS 
By Iv.N. 
Upon the moon depend I, 
For me he ne'er has failed; 
To many men afflicted 
His aid has most availed. 
Amid the azure heavens 
His saintly face I see; 
I know he'll soon be full and 
I know he'll wait for me. 
