A Literary Log

Southland Times, Issue 20939, 23 November 1929, Page 13

A Literary Log

ROLLED BY

IOTA.

A POET OF TWO COUNTRIES. Two poets, at least, live under the name C. H. Winter, a tall, rakish Aussie, who lives and writes in this Southland of ours, sometimes over the pen-name of “Riverina” and sometimes under other disguises, but always with the pure sincerity of the man who sings because he must. It is not easy to write critically of the work of a poet one knows personally, and I wish I were not predisposed to favour the writings of Winter, predisposed by the fact that I know a poet lives eagerly under his skin, and that, as “The Story of ‘Bidgee Queen’ ” and other verses shows, he is the victim of genuine modesty. I know that if I had never met him I would still find it a joyous business to read and evaluate his verses for in them is the quality which will always capture me: the sincerity of a true poet. This quality stamps itself on all the verses in the well-filled book. Winter belonged to the Australian bush, his heart still strays back there, and he writes of the Australian scene with the swing, the rythms, the music of the school which numbers among its products Adam Lindsay Gordon and Banjo Paterson which has filled many columns of The Bulletin. The growth of Australia has put that “bush” school back into the past, but the marked, the obvious rhythms of the “galloping” lines of the poets on horseback have unmitigated freshness in Winter’s lines, and his humour plays g about the fancies of the outback troubadour as potently as did that of the men he evidently read assiduously when he was young and when they were at the fullness of their powers. For him the real Australia is outback where the true Australian is bred and reared: F*or the grand old bush has fashioned them to a her own bravo design, Given them a wider vision, bred in them a .friendship fine. She has planted in their natures something' that x .tho others lack — ‘ Something of the open spaces from the wider ways outback. Quiet-eyed they read her secrets, and her changing fortunes share. In the land beyond the cities you will find Australia there. Those lines spring from Winter’s deep faith and they reveal the ispiration of much of his verse. He, himself “quiet-eyed”, quietvoiced, has read the secrets of the outback and has caught and kept the wider vision of the “land beyond the cities.” There is a wealth of his own desires in "The Old Drover” when he -says: I would like to give you yarns that I have heard the drovers- tell—; Of their love affairs and sheep dogs, and their trips this side of heltf Of the eerie things they’ve sighted when they’ve took their watch at night. And the bush ghosts seem a-list’ning just beyond the ring of light.. (And, sornehouf, their yarns sound truthful when revivin’, some old scene, As ,they .sigh regretful curses for the men they might have been). and in his. verses he has told of some of these things, with the irony, the tenderness, the guffawing humour of the bush men. The nonsense of “Bidgee Queen” (the racehorse reared on beer),-the eerie touch of “The Black Lagoon,” the joke of “To the Southern Cross,” the pictures of “The Star Hotel” the shrewd joy of “The Song of the Freshwater Sailor” and “Sea Song” and the grim “At the Back of Wyngha Run” show his versatility, and his faith. On that foundation, New Zealand—one likes to say Southland as an amendment—has built another poet who sings with more reflection, with a mellower voice, more introspective, more wistful, perhaps but as surely the comrade of beauty. The imagery is more poetical, the management of the shorter rhythms discloses more subtlety, and there is a hint of intensity one does not find in the “bush” verse; but the hand is never cramped, the “wider vision” given him by the outback of Australia has prevented that. He has seen new glories, he has added to his treasures in leaving the bush: These things I love: A mountain etched agaist a sunset sky, Waves tied with silver ribbons of moonlight; Cloud galleons on fleecy wings above, Slow sailing over; A wild bird’s vespers when the drowsy land Is carpeted with dusk; red blooms and white Of tangled clover: Star-haunted streams; the feathered phalanx high With night at hand. These, as one would expect, armour him . against the “city, with its graven artistries of man’s endeavour,” and he gives added reason in For I have walked by wave-wet roeks; have seen The rising sun his jewelled arrows shake On sea and river; Have known the glory of the waking wood Where night has been. If his volume had contained nothing but this poem “Treasures”, it would have been worth a sacrifice to make it a possession. Nature brings the joy of serene beauty into his heart, and it is typical of the change in him that, after the swift movement of the bush songs, Winter should see Nature in this way: Weary of fruitless delving after light In tangled theory, and prejudice Of groping minds, which mark no goal in sight, I seek the forest way where quiet is. Tho twining branches hold a sweet content; Nothing they breathe of sopristry or doubt. The faJth of ages In their leaves Is pent— A green door shutting speculation out. Here dies a mind’s unrest!• At - every turn The forest teaches its philosophy: The calm obedience of flower and fern. The quiet confidence of vine and tree. The change from “bush” to “forest” is not lightly made: it is significant. He has ; changed his idiom, but the faith endures, < and one sees what Winter means when he i sings elsewhere: j For wisdom Is only the learning anew * Of forgotten things. ; In Australia Winter was definitely under 1 the spell of the bush and the bush ballad- 1 ists; but his transplantation .to Southland 1 wrought changes which opened to him the ‘ treasuries of English poetry. Shelley, and 1 Keats can be felt, of course. In the.Aus- k tralian period he could not have written “Before the Bookshelves,” wherein he reveals some of the newer favourites and the old in: I - How decide 1 Whether to nail with Conrad or give ear I To Brady's sailormen, or Flecker’s song • Of bells that beat; drink of the ruby tide Old Omar pours to greet and speed tho year, 1 Or tramp with Lawson where the way goes wrong. ( “The Story of Bidgee Queen and Other t Verses” is the story of a poet’s develop- 1 ment, and from this viewpoint it is an inter- i esting study, but it deserves the attention t of a large audience, because it reveals a i poet of high purpose, and a writer of t

marked versatility. None of the verse books of the later period in this part of the world have shown such a wide range of idea, such maturity, such complete innocence of artifice and effort. Most of the flock of young female poets of this country —and most of the young school seem to be female—are overloaded by conscious poetic effort, but here in Winter the lines ripple along with the unpremeditated ease of a river, and he sings naturally. Now and again, especially in the earlier poems, there is a heaviness in the rhythm, but these are small things, which serve to accentuate one’s appreciation of the beauties of his mature work. With such good material it is a pity that the format was not better, but the aim has been to secure a low-priced volume. However, there are some misprints which should be cured in later editions and some Americanisations in spelling which one would like to see removed. “The Story of Bidgee Queen” is published by the New Century Press, Sydney; my copy through The Georgian Book Shop, Dee Street. A RAJAH, AND A WOMAN. “Diamonds and Jasmin” is a melodramatic Anglo-Indian story of inter-racial loves and hates, told effectively if a bit floridly by Alice Eustace, who has one or two excellent novels in this field to her credit. ■ The basis of the story is that an English girl is brought up in close contact with two brothers, sons of a rajah, and one of these, as they grow older, falls madly in love with her. The story moves to England where the princes go to be educated, but later when vicissitudes beset Derry' Lutterell she is induced to return to Kharesmia, and when she is there her Indian lover locks her in his zenana. Michael Hastings, Derry Luttrell’s lover, proceeds to Kharesmia and there meets the Indian prince. They fight for Derry, and Michael, of course, prevails. In this way he wins the girl, marries her and goes away to England. Later comes Heru, the maharajah with presents of diamonds and jasmins for Derry and his hand in friendship for Michael. A pleasant story, of the 'melodramatic type, ' with plenty of action and sentiment. “Diamonds and Jasmin” is from Messrs Mills and Boon, London. THE EXCUSE FOR SIN. The idea of “Payment in Full” seems to be that the fee demanded for infringements of society’s code of morality is not always paid in suffering. Elizabeth Carfrae, who has written a number of novels, in this one uses an American scene and works with a rather complicated story, which reduces to its fundamentals in the fact that George Hutton, rich and elderly, marries Elizabeth Alloway, a young orphan whose mother eloped with a man, and who. is scorned by the father of Christopher Mallary as a late consequence. Elizabeth is not happy with Hutton, in spite of his efforts to make her so, and her children die. Then she meets Christopher again, and they live together. When Elizabeth has a daughter, Hutton, believing it is his child, is overjoyed. Years later this girl, grown up, meets Christopher and he falls in love with her. She realizes that her mother also loves him and takes a desperate means of compromising Christopher so that he will have to marry her; but Christopher, knowing he-is dealing with his own daughter, tells her she deserves to be spanked (he should have done it) and removes her beyond the reach of scandal. Then Hutton dies, and Elizabeth and Christopher marry, conscious that their sin at least gave Hutton a happiness which otherwise could not have been possible—shocking morals, but a good story, and one in which the modern and pre modern woman are held in contrast, to the cost of the former. “Payment in Full” is published by Messrs Mills and Boon, London, whence came my copy. ELIZABETH POWELL AGAIN. .

I wonder if you remember “The Beehive.” If you read it, you will, and if you haven’t read it there is a joyous task ahead of you. I think you should read the delightful story of life in Central Australia by Elizabeth Powell before you proceed to “Sunset Hill,” which is a story in sequence with it, though in itself self-contained. I suggest “The Beehive” first, because you will have a better understanding of.- Bubbles, Muin, the Major and that charming girl, Beryl. Into this story come new characters, Jill Loftus with music in her heart, inherited from her mother, Brenda the loyal, Pat Brent and others, all of them drawn with loving care by the author. One of the first questions the reader will ask, of course, is whether it is up to the level of “The Beehive,” for with that story Miss Poweii set herself a high standard, but here, I think, she has written with more certainty, with a better grip and the ktory is more compact, without losing any of the charm w’hich carried the first book to success. Miss Powell writes without .apparent effort, and she knows her scene thoroughly. Her people are so delightfully natural, so free of literary affectation, of literary convention that they are irresistible, and her story moves easily from comedy to pathos, from the placidity of the Australian country to the tense drama of. storm and flood. Beryl is still the charming Beryl, and Jill, really the heroine of this story, is what Beryl would call “glamorous,” and, of course, Bubbles, who finishes the book with a scornful “I think it’s ridic’lous,” is • as delightful at eleven as he was at the first acquaintance. “Sunset Hill” is a book parents should remember in the coming Christmas time, but I warn them to -make arrangements to secure a loan of it from the young owner, because they will want to read it—young people should not have all the good things of life. "Sunset Hill” comes from the Cornstalk Publishing Company,' through Messrs Angus and Robertson, Sydney. / SAWDUST. Miss Lilian Eichler, the author of “Stillborn,” who is in private life Mrs T. M. Watson, has left with' her husband for a long visit to the South Seas. While she is there she will write a second novel, and a series of short stories. Mr Aldous Huxley has another volume of essays appearing with Chatto, under the title, “Do What You Will.” There are long essays on Swift, Beaudelaire, Wordsworth, and other literary characters. There are shorter ones on light social subjects, and in particular a satirical sketch about the old ladies who winter in the Riviera.