poem of this period. Like "Epochs," it is a cycle of poems, and the
verse has caught the very trick of music,--alluring, baffling, and
evasive. This time we have the landscape of the night, the glamour
of moon and stars,--pictures half real and half unreal, mystic
imaginings, fancies, dreams, and the enchantment of "faerie," and
throughout the unanswered cry, the eternal "Wherefore" of destiny.
Dawn ends the song with a fine clear note, the return of day, night's
misty phantoms rolled away, and the world itself, again green,
sparkling and breathing freshness.

In 1874 she published "Alide," a romance in prose drawn from Goethe's
autobiography. It may be of interest to quote the letter she
received from Tourgeneff on this occasion:--


"Although, generally speaking, I do not think it advisable
to take celebrated men, especially poets and artists, as a
subject for a novel, still I am truly glad to say that I
have read your book with the liveliest interest. It is
very sincere and very poetical at the same time; the life
and spirit of Germany have no secrets for you, and your
characters are drawn with a pencil as delicate as it is
strong. I feel very proud of the approbation you give to
my works, and of the influence you kindly attribute to them
on your own talent; an author who write as you do is not
a pupil in art any more; he is not far from being himself
a master."


Charming and graceful words, of which the young writer was justly