Unfortunately, the first poem we noticed on opening ,Mr. W.
Force Stead's new book of verse, Festival in Tuscany -(Cobden-Sanderson, 5s.) was a descriptive piece, in very fine style, entitled " A Sea Chanty." When Mr. Force Stead 'writes concerning what he knows he does so with a delightful -quiet detachment, and a rare charm of phrase. His title-poem -which appeared first in these columns, is obviously first-hand imagery : so is " Night Ecstasy," an intensely sympathetic -piece, woven, as it were, of the stuff of stars, in which such 'vivid lines as " Orion planting his feet on bare elm boughs " occur.- But what is a " sea chanty " ? There is no such thing. And if Mr. Force "Stead can see the watch on deck weighing anchor to his- scholarly verses, we certainly cannot. Let sailors- keep to their shanties=or the modern equivalent; which is likely to be the latest music-hall hit—and let so good a poet as Mr. Stead keep to his pastorals and lyrics.
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