world against a background of old dreams: young America seen through the eyes of old Russia. It is a romantic realism that uplifts such poems as "Kartúshkiya-Beróza" (a record of boyhood which is one of Brody's finest achievements though, unfortunately, too long to quote), “A Row of Poplars: Central Park," "Ghetto Twilight" and the poignant 'Lamentations." It is, to be more accurate, a romanticism that springs from reality and, after a fantastic flight, settles back with a new vision. Timidly A CITY PARK Against a background of brick tenements Some trees spread their branches Skyward. They are thin and sapless, They are bent and weary— Tamed with captivity; And they huddle behind the fence Like a group of panicky deer Caught in a cage. SEARCHLIGHTS Tingling shafts of light, Like gigantic staffs Brandished by blind, invisible hands, Cross and recross each other in the sky, Frantically Groping among the stars-stubbing themselves against the bloated clouds Tapping desperately for a sure foothold In the fluctuating mists. Calm-eyed and inaccessible. The stars peer through the blue fissures of the sky, GHETTO TWILIGHT An infinite weariness comes into the faces of the old tenements, As they stand massed together on the block, Tall and thoughtfully silent, In the enveloping twilight. Pensively, They eye each other across the street, Through their dim windows With a sad recognizing stare; Watching the red glow fading in the distance, At the end of the street, Behind the black church spires; Watching the vague sky lowering overhead, Purple with clouds of colored smoke; From the extinguished sunset; Watching the tired faces coming home from work Like dry-breasted hags Welcoming their children to their withered arms. Stephen Vincent Benét, the younger brother of William Rose Benét, was born at Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, in July, 1898. He was educated in various parts of the country, graduating from Yale in 1919. At seventeen he published a small book containing six dramatic portraits, Five Men and Pompey (1915), a remarkable set of monologues which, in spite of distinct traces of Browning and Alfred Noyes, was little short of astounding, coming from a schoolboy. In Benét's next volume, Young Adventure (1918), one hears something more than the speech of an infant prodigy; the precocious facility has developed into a keen and individual vigor. Heavens and Earth (1920), the most representative collection, has a greater imaginative sweep. Like his brother, the younger Benét is at his best in the decoratively grotesque; his fancy exults in running the scales between the whimsically bizarre and the lightly diabolic. PORTRAIT OF A BOY After the whipping, he crawled into bed; Fat motes danced. He sobbed; closed his eyes and dreamed. Warm sand flowed round him. Blurts of crimson light Splashed the white grains like blood. Past the cave's mouth Shone with a large fierce splendor, wildly bright, Here the Cross swung; and there, affronting Mars, "Doubloons!" they said. Doubloons!" Their eyes were moons. The words crashed gold. Hilda Conkling Hilda Conkling, most gifted of recent infant prodigies, was born at Catskill-on-Hudson, New York, October 8, 1910. The daughter of Grace Hazard Conkling (see page 207), she came to Northampton, Massachusetts, with her mother when she was three years old and has lived there since, a normal out-ofdoors little girl. Hilda began to write poems-or rather, to talk them-at the age of four. Since that time, she has created one hundred and fifty little verses, many of them astonishing in exactness of phrase and beauty of vision. Hilda " tells" her poem and her mother copies it down, arranges the line-divisions and reads it to the child for correction. Conceding a possible halfconscious shaping by Mrs. Conkling, the quality which shines behind all of Hilda's little facets of loveliness is a straightforward ingenuousness, a child-like but sweeping fantasy. Poems by a Little Girl (1920), published when Hilda was a little more than nine years old, is a detailed proof of this delightful quality. Every poem bears its own stamp of unaffected originality; Water," "Hay-Cock," and a dozen others are startling in their precision and a power of painting the familiar in unsuspected colors. This child not only sees, feels and hears with the concentration of a child-artist, she communicates the results of her perceptions with the sensitivity of a master-craftsman. She hears a chickadee talking The way smooth bright pebbles Everything is extraordinarily vivid and fanciful to her keen senses. pearl trinkets on his feet" and The short feathers smooth along his back Or the rippled green of ships When I look at their sides through water. She observes: The water came in with a wavy look It is too early for judgments-even for a prophecy. It is impossible to guess how much Hilda's vision will be distorted by knowledge and the traditions that will accompany her growth. One can only hold one's breath and hope for the preservation of so remarkable a talent. WATER The world turns softly Not to spill its lakes and rivers. The water is held in its arms And the sky is held in the water. That pours silver, And can hold the sky? |