Now that the miscellany is brought together, some lack of concord in pieces
written at widely severed dates, and in contrasting moods and circumstances,
will be obvious enough. This I cannot help, but the sense of disconnection,
particularly in respect of those lyrics penned in the first person, will be
immaterial when it is borne in mind that they are to be regarded, in the
main, as dramatic monologues by different characters.

As a whole they will, I hope, take the reader forward, even if not far,
rather than backward. I should add that some lines in the early-dated poems
have been rewritten, though they have been left substantially unchanged.

T. H.
September 1909.



THE REVISITATION



As I lay awake at night-time
In an ancient country barrack known to ancient cannoneers,
And recalled the hopes that heralded each seeming brave and bright time
Of my primal purple years,

Much it haunted me that, nigh there,
I had borne my bitterest loss--when One who went, came not again;
In a joyless hour of discord, in a joyless-hued July there -
A July just such as then.