Poitrav.—Lines and Interlines. By Julia Boynton. (G. P. Putnam's Sons.)—There
is real strength in some of these poems, though they often fail in form and completeness. For instance, " isolate " for "isolated" (p. 26) is not English, nor is "stators" a faultless rhyme to "nature." "Thunderous as the decaman " is certainly obscure. It is not every one that will remember the fiuctus decutnanus. On the other hand, even here Miss Boynton often shows originality and strength. She is not content with commonplace rhymes, and if she sometimes fails, she not nnfrequently makes a success. But her great merit is her thoughtfulness. It is not too much to say that there is something of real weight in almost every poem. Here is a specimen eoaroely above the average
" Tax Gana B.IITIKIL.
How many wait In impotence beside the temple gate ; Fast closed to such because of feeble feet, The B.utiful. by -whose abundant grace The throngs press inward to the holy Owe, The courts of peace, with incense rich and sweet.
0 Gate 0 Gate I Bonds we mourn and blame illiberal fate ; What p.sionate kisses dim thy shining brass; We moisten with what hot rebellious showers Thy threabold.stone, worn by no foot of oars; Rondo we catch the robes of those who pass Upright and whole, hope glowing in their eyes, Unsandalled to prayer and sacrifice.
We beg for alms.
We cry aloud and stretch importunate palms. We wrong our am& with beggarly request, When haply, on a sadden, some divine • Snob. as I have,' pours out its healing wine. We rise and lean and praise God- with the rest. Lo, bread for stones, a dowry for a dole, The Beautiful is open, we are whole I"
Not less striking are the pictures from Nature. Here, for instance, is the poem on the expression of which we have made some criticism,
Isolate in her conscious grandeur, creature of a royal blood,
She doll, rule' the one unrivalldCleopatra of the weed.
Something in her regal stature, In her fierce and fervid nature, Brings to mind a vivid vision of the Lady of the Nile. How the splendour other presence, how her sudden.fiashing smile
Glorifies the slumbrous spaces of the dusky forest aisle I And a face of Orient oval, olivehrowed. and midnightnyed,
Looks from sowing, flame-hued draperies in its dark, imperial pride. While a figure fancy fashions, faults lao da mould sad mien, Supple, smarms, seductive as some tawny jangle-queen.
Then, as though a gathering tempest smote athwart ;Xelian wires,
All athrill with prides/id passion, sad ea deatli„ a voice matures 'Do you wonder at my Roman P dO Yee marvel bow I died f' "