And baleful blossoms rear.”
One closes Mr. Davidson’s book with reluctance, and with a haunting sense of beauty, and power, and the promise of yet greater things to come. He is a young man—scarcely past thirty; what laurels are springing up for him to gather in the future, who shall say? Happily he is not faultless—since for the faultless there is no perspective of hope.
R. L. S.—Some Edinburgh Notes
By
Eve Blantyre Simpson
R. L. S.—SOME EDINBURGH NOTES
Give me again all that was there,
Give me the sun that shone!