NEW POETRY

Dominion, Volume 28, Issue 122, 16 February 1935, Page 19

NEW POETRY

Remarkable Achievement In a First Book “The Bubble,” by Gerald Bullett; “Landscape West of Eden,” by Conrad Aiken; “Branwin,” by Le Wvn Griffiths. (Dent’s New Poetry Series.) “The White Hare, and Other Poems,” by Lillian Bowes Lyon. (London: Jonathan cape.) Gerald Bullett’s “Bubble” is an amusing poem, in rhymed couplets, satirising the contemporary literary scene. Guy Cheuenix, the hero, rises to fame on an unwritten novel; all the best fiction reviewers of the day, themselves published readers, have had the tip from the astute publisher, and review it enthusiastically; a society, which awards an annual literary prize, chooses it as the book of the year. The social literary afternoons, the gossipwriters, and, above all, the reviewers are neatly hit off in Gerald Bullett’s well-tuned running lines. This jeu d’esprit, decorated with three drawings by Thomas Derrick, is worth reading. Conrad Aiken is one of the few American poets, they cannot number many more than four in all, whose poetical fame has reached beyond the United States. ’The publishers of “Landscape West of Eden” lament that Conrad Aiken’s poetry has not yet found its English audience. They find in this book, with its attractive sounding title, “living symbols which are new in English poetry: a true mythology comparable with that of Blake’s prophetic books, though it is discovered through rational retrospection and scientific study, rather than purely mystical, experience.” These are high words, which the reader will endorse in his own way. A passage like the following speaks for itself: Thus, as I watched the water on a black night of bitter star and frost, first freezing in fans and ferns of glass, clicking and tinkling, then with sullen creakings closing— ... the leaf encased, the floating twig, the stick, the straw, at the white edge the pebbles, too, embraced in claws of wlute ice—and, at last, groaning, the whole pond imprisoned— Thus, I thought of the many deaths and murders by which we live — how one thought stays another, itself then slain ; . ~ and frost creeps over feelings, and time destroys what frost has spared. But an oasis such as this comes too rarely. The poet’s integrity in this new version of Adam and Eve’s departure from Eden is felt on every page. What he is striving to say comes through now clearly, now wrapped iu obscurity and confusion. Le Wyn Griflith’s poem, slightly easier going than the above, relates a romantic legend of Branwen, sister of the King of Britain. It is quite short; every superfluous word is pared away, every phrase compressed, so that its 14 pages are packed with more meaning than a first reading releases. The poem has a bardic ring, rare .n modern poetry. “The White Hare,” a first book of poems, is a remarkable achievement. Miss Lillian Bowes Lyon is a poet who sings freely, who returns to the simplest materials of poetry that others have passed by, who makes new sounds out of rhymes as old as the hills. There are still composers living who can extract from the commonest chords subtle and beautiful music; Miss Lyon has this gift with words. The title poem is as fresh, simple and direct in statement in the way that Robert Graves’s early poems were. Iu all her lyrics is the real sound of poetry, more easily heard than explained. Already they yield phrases and lines to be remembered. Openings like this: At the field’s edge, In the snow-furrowed sedge, Couches the white hare; Her stronghold Is there. or this: A man and woman walking Up the rye hill Had no breath for talking; The evening was still. might suggest a debt to the Georgians. One has only to read further to know that Miss Lyon owes as little to them as'she does to her contemporaries GANDHI AS TRANSLATOR “Songs from Prison,” by M. K. Gandhi (London: George Allen and Unwin). Those interested in the form- of the Indian lyric will be glad of this book. The name of Gandhi, and also the fact that the lyrics were translated by him during his imprisonment in 1930, may serve in some cases to be misleading. But none of the contents are actually writings of Gandhi. His translations are from the recognised masters of the lyric.

It must be explained that these specimens of literature are not reminiscent of Rabindranath Tagore. Tagore’s literary craftsmanship and superlative preciosity are the results of his acquaintanceship with England; whereas these are the raw, indigenous lyric. The thoughts expressed in many of them are often amusingly simple; but there is no doubting their sincerity. The transcendence of God is used to show the insignificance of man: that is the essence of nearly every poem. It is amazing how many different ways the Indian finds of saying the same thing. Much of the Eastern symbolism has been lost or blunted through translation; but there still remain images that are unknown to our own poetry. The book will be of value, through this, to people who have a knowledge of Indian mysticism and thought. But for the average reader of poetry this volume will not have the same appeal.