SENIOR CLUB.

Southland Times, Issue 20207, 18 June 1927, Page 22 (Supplement)

SENIOR CLUB.

I am afraid the subject was not quite as easy as it looked. Most of the competitors made the mistake of confining their discussion to the purely technical side of the matter, which led them to suggest that prose can be written with less care than poetry, and that it, therefore, gives the writer more freedom. Writers of great prose watch carefully the choice and placing of their words, the movement of the sentences and the march of the paragraphs. They do not need to search for rhymes, but the true poet does not often find these difficult to catch. Prose certainly has fewer restrictions technically, but in the expression of one’s ideas verse offers a field much wider than that available in prose, that is why so many of our great thoughts find their outlet in poetry. The poet can take more liberties than the writer of prose, he can use language, he can harness words together, which in prose would seem ridiculous. Both Cousin Daphne Godward and Cousin Annie Playfair approach this idea in their entries, bu£ neither seems to appreciate the tremendous scope given to the writer of verse. The fact that some of the most beautiful prose approaches poetry suggests this idea, and, I am pleased to say, both have recognised that fact. Cousin Eileen Jacquiery has done very well, and she has given quite a lot of attention to the technical side of writing, but not enough to a comparison of the opportunities each offers. I wish Eileen would give just a little more care to her writing—there were several mis-spelt words and end letters forgotten—evidence of haste. Cousin Daisy Ward has given me an interesting discussion, but her sentences are rather stilted—prose must move easily, even in the presentation of arguments. Cousin Eileen Mclntosh is too much concerned with her own preferences to enter the discussion properly. I liked Cousin Sheila Campbell’s article, through here again the ’discussion is confined too closely to the technical difficulties, as if the poet all the time were worried over the matching of rhymes. Ideas, my Cousins, are not tortured and twisted by poets worrying to find words that will jingldT—poetry is not merely ornamental —it is essential in certain moments. One day you will hear Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony or the last number of Gustave Hoist’s “The Planets” and you will realise that the introduction of the human voices was absolutely necessary—the only thing the composer could do. So you will realise that poetry in some cases can supply the only medium flexible enough to give an idea adequate expression. I am very pleased with the results of the contest, though I seem to have found many faults. —Cousin Betty

Prose v. Poetry —First Prize.— The writing of prose and the composition of verse are to me so entirely dissimilar that I am inclined to contrast rather than compare them. In the first place, there are subjects that one would not for a moment think of presenting in the form of poetry, subjects that require treatment to which the application of rhythm would be most unsuitable. On the other hand there are thoughts so whimsical and light-veined, I might almost say so elusive, that one can only imagine them woven into the music of rhyme. For example, if I were called upon to give a description of a morning mist slowly rising from over the sea, I would probably give that description in light verse, suggesting in itself the daintiness and airiness of so delicate a subject. Again, to some subjects the rhythm and repetition of poetry gives an added force that would not be generally felt, were the same idea presented in prose-form. Verse is a simple and attractive way of presenting the thought or idea, but there can be no minute detail contained in it, as so often constitutes the true value of prose. The perfect sentence construction, or the high quality of narration could never be as efficiently achieved in verse-form. In poetry, the sheer beauty depends on the words, in prose, on the sentence; yet the essence of true poetry is sometimes found in a prose construction. For example, I quote a passage from Kinglake’s description of the city of Damascus. “Close along on the river’s edge through seven sweet miles of rustling boughs and deepest shade, the city spreads out her whole length; as a man falls flat, face forward on the brook that he may drink and drink again, so Damascus, thirsting forever, lies down with her lips to the stream, and clings to its rushing waters.” There are, of course, subjects that would naturally find expression in prose; but generally speaking, I prefer to present my own thoughts through the medium of verse. • —Cousin Daphne Godward (17) “Rockhaven,” 397 Elies Road, North Invercargill. —Second Prize.— Very often there is little, or no, difference between prose-writing and verse-making. The true spirit of poetry is not found in poems alone—a passage of prose often contains more of this true spirit than many verses put together. As an example take Sir Thomas Browne’s works; these are all prose works, but what poetry pervades each page! Each sentence, each clever saying, is a little poem in itself. “Measure not thyself by thy morning shadow, but by the extent of thy grave; and count thyself above the earth by the life thou must be content with, under it.”

It being our natural speecn, we can express our thoughts with perfect freedom. I am not condemning poetry. I think it the ideal medium for the expression of beautiful thoughts; there is so much music in the rhythmic metre. There are some poems that are immortal and seem divinely inspired. Who would not gladly write such? But not one verse-maker out of a thousand could write a verse such as this: “O hark, O hear, how thin and clear And thinner, clearer, farther going. O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing. Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle; answer, echoes; dying, dying dying.” Only in poetry could such an idea be expressed. Place beside this, a passage of our finest English prose, of which perhaps the Bible will supply the finest examples that can be found. There can be no comparison between the two modes of expression. The fact is apparent that poetry is the ornamental and prose the essential factor in literature. —Cousin Sheila Campbell (17), 79 Thames street, Invercargill. —Highly Commended. — Poetry has been aptly called “music in words.” Its smooth, even metre and rhythm, and flowing lines, clothing beautiful thoughts and expressing the actions of a pure mind, are the works of a natural artist—the poet. Only a true poet, with the gift of verse-writing born in him, can paint wonderful and natural pictures, in glowing colours, within the stilted boundaries of carefully worded and rhymed lines. True poetry gushes from the soul of the poet as a bubbling spring from the earth. In prose, art is not so much to the fore, though in a certain sense it is necessary, to make the words flow freely and naturally, as in verse. From my own experience, I have come to the decision that I have more success with prose writing than with verse making. To portray the beautiful thoughts and meanings entrusted to it, poetry must be free-flowing and natural, and, most important of all, it must be convincing. It must leave its words engraved on the reader’s mind in glorious golden pictures that will arrest the attention and convince the reader of the absolute reality of the scene or happening the poet had in mind when he painted his picture. Prose, in a separate way, must be equally convincing to be successful. If it is to hold the attention, and convince, each different article, descriptive or otherwise, must be written to suit its subject. An adventure tale could not be successfully recounted in the same way as a summer sunset would be described. The sunset would be described in lengthy sentences with a number of adjectives and carefully worded passages conveying to the mind of the reader an ideal summer’s sunset with tinted shadows and lazy breezes. But the adventure story would be told in brief, terse sentences bristling with unwritten meaning and stamping on the reader’s mind the thrills the author had in his thoughts. In verse, a passage cannot be enlarged on owing to the restrictions of metre, rhythm and rhyme, but in prose unlimited scope is offered. Words must be carefully chosen and artistically arranged to obtain their full beauty in the scanty space available in verse making. Words must be selected that will picture by themselves, swing with the rhythm, and rhyme easily. But in prose, though words must be accepted for their value, there is no rhyming or metre to clip short the passages, or subtract from their beauty. Sentences that in verse are confined to measured lines, become passages of exquisite delight or dignified beauty when added to and enlarged on in prose. It takes a person with natural gift to master either of these arts, but only steady practice can bring success. My own verses are stilted and uneven, but I feel much more at home with prose. The art in verse-making is to be brief, yet convincing, and to paint as much as possible on the canvas available. My strong point is not brevity, and my metre is shaky, but I find much enjoyment in prosewriting, with free scope for pen and brain. But no matter which is used—either can form the background for beautiful thoughts and wonderful pictures. —Cousin Eileen Jaquiery (17), George Street, North Invercargill.

What rhythm there is in this one short saying, what music, what poetry! Sir Thomas Browne was incapable of writing a “prosy” sentence; and all because his very nature was poetic. Although he wrote no poems, he was a true poet. It is thus seen that, at bottom, there is practically no difference between prose-writ-ing and verse-making. Someone may say, “But think of the metre which is so important in verse-making!” The answer is that metre, that rhythm, is just as much desirable, and perhaps, as necessary, in prose-writing as it is in verse-making. The difference between these two forms of literature is, that only certain subjects are suitable for verse, while prose-writers may take any subject at all, and treat it successfully. In this way, for this reason, prosewriting rises above verse-making as a form of expressing one’s thoughts. One’s “everyday” thoughts may be expressed more easily and perhaps better, in prose. But the greatest thoughts of the world are, and always will be, expressed in poetry —true poetry, This is the difference I think: for the amateur, prose writing is always the best vehicle for expression of thoughts. —Cousin Annie Playfair (16), Gummies Bush. —Highly Commended.— Now that I am really confronted with this comparison, I find that there is a great deal to be said in favour of both versemaking and prose-writing, and that, after all, I am not so sure about my hitherto preference for prose-writing after all. In prose-writing one is given more scope, I consider. There are no worrying metres and rhyme to be considered, even though one must choose words discriminatingly, weighing the value of each, fitting them together so as to gain the best and most perfect expression. To do this properly, of course, words must be one’s slaves. There should be no frantic search for an appropriate word to express the thoughts. There must be choosing, but not hurried choosing. Prose—good prose—must be written slowly and deliberately, then it will express what it is intended to express, and will provide a delightful and satisfying vehicle for one’s thoughts and impressions. Verse-making, I have attempted once or so, but not seriously perhaps. Yet I take the greatest pleasure in reading the poetic works of great men like Shelley, Longfellow and especially Keats. Some of their works are immortal, glorious. They express so well their thoughts that written in prose, they would lose half their beauty, half their significance. What piece of prose, for instance has the enchanting melody of Keats’ “Ode to a Nightingale” or the exquisite beauty of Shelley’s “To a Skylark”? Yet, after all, although I love to read poetry such as Keats or Shelley wrote, for my own thoughts, knowing as I do my limitations and short-comings, I prefer prose-writing, for I know that I can express myself best through prose. —Cousin Eileen Mclntosh, 91 Scandrett Street, Invercargill. —Highly Commended. — If, for the purpose of this discussion, poetry means verse-making, most certainly I would choose the unrestricted freedom of prose to express my thoughts. It is comparing the action of a free horse to that of a hobbled one. Give an idea to the average verse-maker. It must be turned and twisted, until it assumes correct poetical form. By the time it is finished, the idea is often unrecognisable. Not so with the use of prose.

—Highly Commended.— Poetry, with its infinite number of beautiful and expressive words, seems a fitting language in which to relate deeds of valour, and describe the beauties of nature. Marmion would lose almost all its vividness and beauty if told in prose. The Ballad of East and West could not thrill one, as it does, however well it was translated in prose. Both would lose their atmosphere and grandeur. How insipid Keat’s “Ode to a Nightingale” would sound if it were not couched in that expressive language, poetry, for poetry is a language apart from prose. Yet many scenes of beauty have been well described in prose for it has expressive words too. After all, the poems were not meant to be changed to prose. They were written with rhyme and rhythm and an atmosphere created around them which was not meant to be altered. It would be useless to take the same theme and follow up the poet’s train of thought in prose. It was not meant to be taken so, but many scenes similar to the Ballad of East and West and stories such as Marmion have been told in prose and told well, for the writer takes a different view and expresses himself best in prose Beautiful things can and have been told in beautiful words in prose. Then there are so many ways in which prose is used that poetry could not possibly express. Newspapers and magazines would be absurd and tiresome if written in verse, besides taking much longer to write up. Books would lose their interest and the plot or theme of the story could not be sustained to hold the reader’s attention. Therefore verse making is confined to the realms of poetry, but prose is freer and can describe most beautiful scenes and places as well as everyday interests. For myself I prefer to express my thoughts in verse. If I were a writer I would then use and uphold prose as the best avenue of thought and expression, but when one thinks most and writes little then verse is the more sympathetic outlet. —2 marks to Cousin Daisy Ward (16), Awarua Plains..