The Little Review, May 1915 (Vol. 2, No. 3)

A striking collection of early‑modernist poems opens this issue, offering vivid, dream‑like snapshots that tumble between mythic references and urban nightscapes. The verses shift from the flickering lamps of ancient Pompeii to the haunting quiet of a cloistered church, each line packed with striking images—bats, harpies, broken citadels—that invite listeners to linger on the strange beauty of fragmented perception.

Interwoven with the poetry is an incisive editorial essay that lays out a bold vision for cultural renewal. The writer defends controversial judgments about contemporary music and art, arguing that true progress comes from a small, committed few who dare to reshape values before the wider world catches up. This blend of lyrical experimentation and fierce critical commentary captures a moment when avant‑garde voices were staking their claim, making the issue a vivid portal into the restless creativity of its era.