ENVOI God, thou great symmetry, Who put a biting lust in me That I have spent in shapeless ways, DOMESTIC ECONOMY I will have few cooking-pots, I will have four garments, My service shall be good, Though my diet be mean. Then I shall have excess to give to the poor, And right to counsel beggars at my door. THE SINGER If I had peace to sit and sing, Then I could make a lovely thing; Let it be something for my song, Another poet whose early death was a blow to English literature, James Elroy Flecker, was born in London, November 5, 1884. Possibly due to his low vitality, Flecker at first found little to interest him but a classical reaction against realism in verse, a delight in verbal craftsmanship, and a passion for technical perfection. The advent of the war began to make Flecker's verse more personal and romantic. The tuberculosis that finally killed him at Davos Platz, Switzerland, January 3, 1915, forced him from an Olympian disinterest to a deep concern with life and death. His two colorful volumes are The Golden Journey to Samarkand (1913) and The Old Ships (1915). STILLNESS When the words rustle no more, And the last work's done, When the bolt lies deep in the door, And Fire, our Sun, Falls on the dark-laned meadows of the floor; When from the clock's last chime to the next chime Silence beats his drum, And Space with gaunt grey eyes and her brother Time Wheeling and whispering come, She with the mould of form and he with the loom of rhyme: Then twittering out in the night my thought-birds flee, I am emptied of all my dreams: I only hear Earth turning, only see Ether's long bankless streams, And only know I should drown if you laid not your hand on me. David Herbert Lawrence, born in 1885, is one of the most psychologically intense of the modern poets. This intensity, ranging from a febrile morbidity to an exalted and almost frenzied mysticism, is seen even in his prose works-particularly in his short stories, The Prussian Officer (1917) and his analytical Sons and Lovers (1913). As a poet he is often caught in the net of his own emotions; his passion thickens his utterance and distorts his rhythms, which sometimes seem purposely harsh and bitterflavored. But within his range he is as powerful as he is poignant. His most notable volumes of poetry are Amores (1916), Look! We Have Come Through! (1918), and New Poems (1920). ΡΙΑΝΟ Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me; And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings. In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour With the great black piano appassionato. The glamour Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past. FORSAKEN AND FORLORN The house is silent, it is late at night, I am alone... From the balcony I can hear the Isar moan, Can see the white Rift of the river eerily, between the pines, under a sky of stone. Some fireflies drift through the middle air Tinily. I wonder where Ends this darkness that annihilates me? John Freeman John Freeman, born in 1885, has published several volumes of pleasantly descriptive verse. The two most distinctive are Stone Trees (1916) and Memories of Childhood (1919). STONE TREES Last night a sword-light in the sky With darkness ridged the riven dark. And cows astonished stared with fear, And all things else were still or hid. Came but the owl's hoot, ghostly, clear. In that cold trance the earth was held Even the tall poplar hung stone still. It seemed an age, or time was none Rolled the slow thunders on the wind. From all the wood came no brave bird, Only a dog's long lonely howl When from the window poured pale light. The hoot came ghostly of the owl. Shane Leslie Shane Leslie, the only surviving son of Sir John Leslie, was born at Swan Park, Monaghan, Ireland, in 1885 and was educated at Eton and the University of Paris. He worked for a time among the Irish poor and was deeply interested in the Celtic revival. |