17 JULY 1909, page 17
Books.
A NEW POET.f A CENTURY ago, when older conventions ruled in poetry, the poet of a new land prided himself on counting kin with the past. He wrote of the desert or the prairie......
Poetry.
A DEAD DOG. HE was no hound of fine heroic mould, A martyred Gelert grim and bold, A waiting Argus wistful at the knee Of pale Penelope, Such as for ever stays the marble feet......
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