Henry Reed Conant, like many other beginners in the literary arena, commits his poems to a critical public with the full consciousness of their poetical deficiencies. Criticism he must await, and gladly accept as the basis of that future development through which every poet must pass ere he attain that popular following that is the reward not only of genius, but of bitter disappointments.
A. K. G.
Appleton, Wis., Nov. 22, 1893.
We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths;
In feelings, not in figures on a dial.
We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives
Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.
—Bailey.