Lloyd George, "the man who saw," and _The Kaiser's Dirge_ is a
savage malediction. The poems in this book--of decidedly unequal
merit--have the fire of indignation if not always the flame of
inspiration. Taken as a whole, they are more interesting
psychologically than as a contribution to English verse. I sympathize
with the author's feelings, and admire his sincerity; but his
reputation as a poet is not heightened overmuch. Perhaps the best poem
in the collection is _The Yellow Pansy_, accompanied with
Shakespeare's line, "There's pansies--that's for thoughts."

Winter had swooped, a lean and hungry hawk;
It seemed an age since summer was entombed;
Yet in our garden, on its frozen stalk,
A yellow pansy bloomed.

'Twas Nature saying by trope and metaphor:
"Behold, when empire against empire strives,
Though all else perish, ground 'neath iron war,
The golden thought survives."

Although, with the exception of his marriage and travels in America,
Mr. Watson's verse tells us little of the facts of his life, few poets
have ever revealed more of the history of their mind. What manner of
man he is we know without waiting for the publication of his intimate
correspondence. It is fortunate for his temperament that, combined
with an almost morbid sensitiveness, he has something of Byron's power
of hitting back. His numerous volumes contain many verses scoring off
adverse critics, upon whom he exercises a sword of satire not always
to be found among a poet's weapons; which exercise seems to give him
both relief and delight. Apart from these thrusts edged with personal