Whispers. By Frances Wynne. (Kogan Paul and Co.)— Whispers is
a rather too modest name for a little volume of singularly sweet and graceful poems, hardly one of which can be road by any lover of poetry without definite pleasure. Take, for instance, this happy and half-humorous piece on "Members of the Congregationr which is a very fair and by no means specially- admirable specimen of the whole :—.
"O beautiful sunbeam, straying
In through the wide church door, I wish I was with you, playing Down there on trio cool stone floor.
For I am so tired of sitting Upright and stiff and still, And you, you go dousing, flitting Gaily, wherever you will; And you've nothing to do but glisten,
And no ono is ever vexed 13ocanse you forgot to listen, Or can't remember the text.
Dear sunbeam, I'm pondering, pondering, Were they all fast asleep—the flowers ?
When you came on your bright wings wandering. To earth in the morning hours.
And where have you since been roaming Tho long, long hot day through? Will you welcome the purple gloaming That moans' going home' to you?
have you been to the river, I wonder ?— The river, shining and wide, Where coots dart fiashinglv under, And water weeds rook with the tido. Did you see the big daisies bobbing ? Were the speedwells like bits of sky ? Did you hear the sad grasses sobbing Whenever the wind went by ?
Dear sunbeam, I'll be so lonely When you have gone quite away, And even now you are only
A faint gold splash on the grey. Ali I at last the sermon is over;
I know the text—' God is Light '— Wait a minute, sunbeam, you rover,
And let mo bid you 'Good "
Or take the touching little poem called " Little Ships," or the stilt more fascinating one called "A Lesson in Geography," and any ono who reads either of them without definite pleasure is, we- venture to say, unable to appreciate that play of light and shadow on the heart of man which is of the very essence of poetry. We con- gratulate Miss Wynne on everything but her title, which is only too modest. If these are " whispers " at all, it is not that they are- given out in a voice artificially lowered, which is the meaning we generally attach to the word, but simply that the key which best suits the writer is one that is sweet and low,—neither plaintive. nor sonorous.
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