English poetry -- 20th century -- History and criticism
From the fusion of those two powers comes the distinctive character of
this poetry: the peculiar beauty of its gallant spirit. They are
constant features of it from first to last, but they are not always
perfectly fused nor equally present. In the earlier poems, to find which
you must go back to the volume of 1911 and begin at the end of the book,
they enter as separate and distinct components. One would expect that,
of course, at this stage; and we shall not be surprised, either, if we
discover that there is here a shade of excess in both qualities: a
touch of self-consciousness and relative crudity. The point of interest
is that they are so clearly the principal elements from which the subtle
and complex beauty of the later work was evolved. Thus, facing one
another on pages 84 and 85, are two apt examples. In "The Call" sheer
passion is expressed. The poet's great love of life, taking shape for
the moment as love of his lady, is here predominant.
Out of the nothingness of sleep,
The slow dreams of Eternity,
There was a thunder on the deep:
I came, because you called to me.
I broke the Night's primeval bars,
I dared the old abysmal curse,
And flashed through ranks of frightened stars
Suddenly on the universe!
.....
I'll break and forge the stars anew,
Shatter the heavens with a song;
Immortal in my love for you,
Because I love you, very strong.
But on the opposite page, the sonnet called "Dawn" swings to the
extremest point from the magniloquence of that. It is realistic in a
literal sense: a bit of wilful ugliness. Yet it springs, however
distortedly, from the root of mental clarity and courage which was to
produce such gracious blossoming thereafter. It is engaged with an
exasperated account of a night journey in an Italian train: all the
discomfort and weary irritation of it venting itself upon two
unfortunate Teutons.
.....
One of them wakes, and spits, and sleeps again.
The darkness shivers. A wan light through the rain
Strikes on our faces, drawn and white. Somewhere
A new day sprawls; and, inside, the foul air
Is chill, and damp, and fouler than before....
Opposite me two Germans sweat and snore.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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