"THE PERFUME VENDOR"

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXII, Issue 22262, 9 November 1935, Page 12 (Supplement)

"THE PERFUME VENDOR"

NEW ZEALAND GIRL'S POEMS A book of poems by a girl of fifteen is rather a rarity, not to nay a marvel, when much of the vorfie in it lias distinctive worth and charm. Many girls —and boys, for tho matter of that—have times of poetic endeavour. They arc a feature of normal adolescence. But to pursue tho delight with sustained vigour, and to make real progress in the art of it, before adult years brine: thoir sober interests, are unusual achievements. However, Gloria Hawlinson, writer of " The Perfume Vendor " and tho other eighty-six poems grouped under that book-title, is an unusual girl. There is, to begin with, the story of her own clays as they have stretched out in length and breadth and depth; a childhood begun in sunny Tonga, where tongues moro musical than workaday English wero effortlessly learned even hettor than it, then another home in New Zealand, and then —an illness that shut hor into hospital and at last into a sickroom, necessarily lonely, but decked with dark blue hangings nnd a bookshelf running round all four walls, and shared by a couple of canaries, the same select number of cats and a box of silk-worms. Among its visitors have been prized letters, some from distinguished poets of Gloria's outer and inner world: and many a letter, born in her hands, has she sent out to friends of every order, 011 errands of eager love. To go 011 a little with her story, her lirst book of verse, a slim product of hor fancy, was published about a year ago, and now comes this larger selection, printed in that London -which generations ago was the sole literary market-place of British authors. None able to show such a trophy of recognition is to be deemed pitiful; it is a triumph, a bannered exploit in the wide spaces of the mind, whatever limits the body may suffer.

This gathering of songs in the silence comes from here and there through Gloria's years. Childhood lilts of youngest rapture, breathings of girlhood enthusiasms and sonic later strains wherein deep truth echoes—it is good to have their various qualities of thought and technique. Much is elfin; she still —thanks bo!—believes in fairies and knows the way through " the ivory gate and golden,"'but this pleasure is never feeble. If Queen Mali's sceptre seems over-venerated, there is always Puck to play gay pranks as ho should. And so tho lines go, not always to conventional order, and sometimes with strango words in disarray, but with many an exquisite turn. Quaint, whimsical, free in movement, thoy often are, yet at other times compact and staid as a regiment in a review. A sensitiveness to verbal beauty is often artlessly revealed, and in structure* of stanza is many a sign of maturing power of self-criticism. Tastes difTer and are not to be disputed; so readers will inevitably have their favourites—and their aversions, it may even be. " Tho Bead Seller " has pleased a host, and so have " In Brabant Once " and " Sleep " and but no list of such can bo conveniently given. " Bethlehem " and "On tho Road to Emmaus " and " Easter Morning " will live. Sheer joy of wordcraft keeps close company with much solemn thought. Here is tho end of " Velvet," dainty and alluring: I've seen my lady laughing. J'to seen my lady and. Hiding, walking, dancing, talking. But always velvet-clad And here, at tho end of all, is " Sorcery," a song of dreams, with its firm thought and winsome cadence, concluding: I shall go on my way to the sorcerer's palace, for, oh, I lone: for his kiss: Well, follow the wind of the waters westward. . . . You cannot go amiss! Some of Gloria's later poems have been held back for another book. It will be awaited with a zest of expectancy, so good is this one. " The Perfume Vendor," by Gloria Rowlinsoii. (Hutchinson and Co.)