Florence Wilkinson Florence Wilkinson, Mrs. Wilfrid Muir Evans in private life, has written, in my opinion, nothing better than her poem "The Illuminated Canticle," although her numerous books of poetry contain much excellence. She was born in Tarrytown, N. Y. She has traveled both in Italy and Spain and from 1903 to 1905 studied at the Sorbonne and Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris. She has celebrated beautifully the Seven Green Pools at Cintra, she has written remarkable poems on the New York sweatshops, and has turned her diffuse but usually effective pen to many other kinds of poetry. The Ride Home and other volumes are a distinct addition to American verse, and Mrs. Evans' sympathetic and cultivated mind has made a sort of poetic reporting of new scenes observed and new environments. She has also written plays, a novel, short stories, and has given many lectures and recitals. Upon such a poem as the one here included I think her reputation may safely rest. To have said Fray Andres drew a purple snail Because its shape was curved and small. in just that way, and to have woven the rich pattern of this strongly individual description, blending such kind beauty with such mystery and terror, is enough to prove her distinction. THE ILLUMINATED CANTICLE * (Belonging to Philip II., and now in the Escorial) I CARRY the great Singing-Book Of the pale king's. Over its rich staves peacocks look, Like birds that dip into a brook; *The poem by Florence Wilkinson is used by permission, and by special arrangement with, Houghton Mifflin Company, the authorized publishers. And all its edges flow with sedges, Fray Andres made it at Leon And good Fray Julian; They decked it till it laughed and shone They spread an angel, blessing man. The sick king peers above my hands He seeks and seeks in all his lands, The kind monks in their cloister sat, They painted in the juicy figs The braided nests of grass and twigs, The king-he has a pinched long face, And his cold stare would find no grace In children's arts or mothers' hearts; Now he is old, his trembling grip I pity, yet I fear him, too; I rock in dreams of gold and blue, Harry Kemp was born in Ohio, came East at the age of twelve, left school for factory-work, returned to school, left high school to go to sea, shipped to Australia, China, California, and thence worked back overland to the University of Kansas. In 1909 the sea again called him and he stowed away on a voyage to London. He has lived since in New York. His first book was a play called Judas. This appeared in 1910. In the meantime, his poems had been attracting attention in the magazines and he had received the title of "tramp-poet." Many of his poems recounted his own adventures on the road and in many occupations. They showed also fiery and original imagination. His first collection of poems was The Cry of Youth, in 1914. The Passing God appeared in 1919. Harry Kemp's poetry is, strangely enough, largely traditional in technique, but the inherent vigor of statement is all his own and he has written lyrics of great beauty. His Chanteys and Ballads appeared in 1920, and gave expression to his ardent and early love of the sea. In 1922 he published an autobiography, and contemplates a series of poetic dramas wrought around the character of Don Juan, several of which he has completed. Harry Kemp has always something very definite, often striking, to say in his poetry. "In a Storm,” selected here, shows his imaginative grasp, "Blind," a certain mystical feeling which is also in him. He founded his own theatre in New York, stage-managed his own plays, and acted in them. He has lived an entirely independent and varied life, and has been inevitably a poet. IN A STORM * UPON a great ship's tilted deck * From Chanteys and Ballads, by Harry Kemp. Copyright, 1920, by Brentano's. And, where the vast wave-whitened sea In green-ridged tides, the ship's expanse Through ether, perilously hurled, In turn all suns and stars in sight BLIND * THE Spring blew trumpets of color; I pitied him in his blindness: A spirit who hears me tapping |