American poetry -- 19th century; American poetry -- 20th century
Before the quiet church that smells of death
They sit.
And Life sweeps past them with a rushing breath
And reaches out and plucks them by the hand
And calls them boldly, whispering to each
In some strange speech
They tremble to but cannot understand.
It thrills and troubles them, as one by one,
The days run off like water through a sieve;
While, with a gaze as candid as the sun,
Poignant and puzzled and inquisitive,
They come and sit,—
A part of life and yet apart from it.
_Jean Starr Untermeyer_
Jean Starr was born at Zanesville, Ohio, May 13, 1886, and educated
at the Putnam Seminary in the city of her birth. At sixteen, she
came to New York City, pursuing special studies at Columbia. In 1907
she married Louis Untermeyer and, although she had written some
prose previous to the poetic renascence, her first volume was
published more than ten years later.
_Growing Pains_ (1918) is a thin book of thirty-four poems, the
result of eight years slow and self-critical creation. This careful
and highly selective process does much to bring the volume up to an
unusually high level; a severity of taste and standards maintain the
poet on the same austere plane. Perfection is almost a passion with
her; the first poem in the book declares:
I would rather work in stubborn rock
All the years of my life;
And make one strong thing
And set it in a high, clean place,
To recall the granite strength of my desire.
Acutely self-analytical, there is a stern, uncompromising
relentlessness toward her introspections that keeps them from being
wistful or pathetic. These poems are, as she explains in her
title-poem—
No songs for an idle lute,
No pretty tunes of coddled ills,
But the bare chart of my growing pains.
Intellect is always in the ascendency, even in the most ecstatic
verses. In an almost religious poem, “A Man” (dedicated to her
father), she pictures herself as a child, and expresses the whole
psychology of our juvenile love of poor literature in lines like:
A book held gaping on my knees,
Watering a sterile romance with my thoughts.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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