the cloud, and the shadows of the earth beneath are made out of
the lights, infinitudes, and shadows of the soul, and are selected
from nature because of some correspondence, unconscious or half felt.
But these things belong more to the psychology of the artist mind
than to the appreciation of its work. I have said enough, I hope, to
attract to the work of these artists, in a mood of true understanding,
those who would like to believe in the existence in Ireland of a
genuine art. For ignored and uncared for as art is, we have some
names to be proud of, and of these Mr. Yeats and Mr. Hone are foremost.

1902




"ULSTER"


AN OPEN LETTER TO MR. RUDYARD KIPLING


I Speak to you, brother, because you have spoken to me, or rather
you have spoken for me. I am a native of Ulster. So far back as
I can trace the faith of my forefathers they held the faith for
whose free observance you are afraid.

I call you brother, for so far as I am known beyond the circle of
my personal friends it is as a poet. We are not a numerous tribe,
but the world has held us in honor, because on the whole in poetry
is found the highest and sincerest utterance of man's spirit. In