The Hesperian / (Lincoln, Neb.) 1885-1899, February 05, 1897, Image 3
VCPgrjii W""- WR UNIVERSITY OF NEBRASKA. Vol. XXVI. LINCOLN, NEBRASKA, FEBRUARY 5, 1897. No. 1 i WHICH? Tlin sorrow of all the weary world Is nuver so (lurk and wide. Tlmt you cannot swell withthe drip of a tear, Tho sob of its groaning tide. And the shoreless wastes of tho world's great woe Arc never so vast and gray That you cannot ligliton their aching moan With soothing one pain nwa . Aha. The Substance of His House. If anybody will dispossess himself of tlio idea that this is in answer to or in any way inspired by the two reviews printed in tho Journal and in the Nebras ka ;Jf ho will smother any" hope that this is to be a scholarly article, he may read ahead from this point if he wants to. I intoud to try nothing more than a statement of my personal impressions of Mr. Fryes poems in "The Substance of His House." When I first road over these poems I dosed tho book and said, "Effective but somehow circumscribod. They do not ouch all of the sides, not even, I think, he best sides of human life." I noticed this tho more because they deal almost wtiroly with human thought and feeling. .' Fl'ye fools with almost morbid inten sity along certain linos. He contrives to nato us fool what ho fools, makes us feel 10 8Pntanoou8ly but in conscious sym "thy with him. There is in reading ,so P's always tho consciousness of wo Poet back of tho poetry. This is my twierni impression. It does not perhaps aratol Pm " n reads ihom sep" The first poem in the book is to mo G ngest. Second comes "Art 0Wn- In all of tho poems 1 can find things that are good but these two seem the most sustained. They leave strong impressions as wholes; some of the others do not. Something of the spirit of the first poem may be guessed from the opening linos: "You say you do not love me any more; And so I may not hold your hand or kiss Your forhead as I used, for it is wrong To cling together after love is gone Exeept for one farewell and final kiss I will not take it now hut wait a while, Since one should uevor hurry to an ond, For the end always hastens of itsolf; The things wo know are temporal, and love No matter, let us talk of something elso." The tone of the poem softens a little later. f We often walked, Sometimes in tho morning when the grass was fresh And covered by the cobwebs spun by night; Unruly tit noonday drowsy with the bees And di.zy with the heat; but frequently When tho quail whistled all along the upland Or in tho lover's twilight with tho star Of evening and the kindling lire flies." Then there is another change: it "You say J was mistnkon,1 or T thought I loved.' " Lo, I havo given tho substance of my house For love and it is utterly condemned. Those are the broad bare walls, the clean -swept floors The room with all its furniture removed Thai I made fit for you to occupy. Oh love, my love, J dread tho winter night lu the dismantled ruin you have loft. One feols, though, in reading that there are some linos that might better be left out. "I cannot analyze as is so fashion able now, this love," jars slightly. "Your voice was like a trumpet of re treat in a lost battle" gives, to raefcat loast a martial striding air not perhaps intended. Something of the same kind of a drop I I a t -m ,TI I si" c '' y