appear to be a matter of moment to her. Some
poets think in rhyme, some do not; Hilda
evidently belongs to the second category.
"Treasure," and "The Apple-Jelly-Fish-Tree," and
"Short Story" are the only poems in the book
which seem to follow a clearly rhymed pattern.
If any misguided schoolmistress had ever
suggested that a poem should have rhyme and
metre, this book would never have been "told."
In "Moon Doves," however, there is a distinctly
metrical effect without rhyme. But the great
majority of the poems are built upon cadence,
and the subtlety of this little girl's cadences
are a delight to those who can hear them.
Doubtless her musical inheritance has all to do
with this, for in poem after poem the instinct for
rhythm is unerring. So constantly is this the case,
that it is scarcely necessary to point out particular
examples. I may, however, name, as two of her
best for other qualities as well, "Gift," and
"Poems." The latter contains two of her quick
strokes of observation and comparison: the morning
"like the inside of a snow-apple," and she herself
curled "cushion-shaped" in the window-seat.

Dear me! How simple these poems seem when
you read them done. But try to write something
new about a dandelion. Try it; and then read
the poem of that name here. It is charming;
how did she think of it? How indeed!