United States or Syria ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
He appended a footnote in December, 1914, when he was dying: "Originally written for Christmas, 1912, and referring to the first Balkan War, this poem contains in the last speech of Christ words that ring like a prophecy of events that may occur very soon." Flecker was essentially noble-minded; and without any trace of conceit, felt the responsibility of his talents.
Yes, sah, to shut out a gentleman, sah, an' the first heat, sah, with his horse on a break." "What!" said Flecker excitedly "you, Col'nel? Shut out why, I thought it was the old pacer." "I swear I did, too, Colonel," said Travis apologetically. "I heard something rattling and galloping along I thought it was the old pacer and I drove like the devil to shut him out!"
Flecker had not noticed it. "But it was a small thing," he said "to frighten the old horse. No rule against it, but a gentleman " The Colonel smiled: "Damn such gentlemen, sah. They're a new breed to me." The old man went slowly back to the stable. He said nothing. He walked dazed, pale, trembling, heart-broken. But never before had he thought so keenly. Should he expose Travis?
I must say, however, that of the two versions of Tenebris Interlucentem, although the second is called a "drastic improvement," I prefer the earlier. Any poet might be proud of either. Flecker liked the work of Mr. Yeats, of Mr. Housman, of Mr. De La Mare; and Rupert Brooke was an intimate friend, for the two young men were together at Cambridge.
To my mind, the pious memoir of Tennyson is injured by the inclusion of a long list of "testimonials," which assure us that Alfred Tennyson was a remarkable poet. Mr. J. C. Squire, under whose auspices the works of Flecker appear in one handsome volume, is an admirable editor.
Flecker and the Tennesseans took drinks and shouted themselves hoarse. Then the old preacher did something, but why he never could explain. It seemed intuition when he thought of it afterwards. Calling Col. Troup to him he said: "I'm kinder silly an' groggy, Col'nel, but I wish you'd go an' look in her mouth an' see how old Lizzette is." The Colonel looked at him, puzzled. "Why?"
It was: 1st Heat: Trumps, 1st; Lizzette, 2nd; Ben Butler, 3rd; Trombine distanced. Time, 2:17-1/2. Then he heard a man swearing elegantly. It was Col. Troup. He was sitting in his sulky in front of the grand stand and talking to Travis and the genial Flecker: "A most unprofessional thing, gentlemen, damned unprofessional, sah, to shut me out.
My garden-wind had driven and havened again All ships that ever had gone to sea, And I saw the glory of all dead men In the shadow that went by the side of me. The West of England looms large in contemporary poetry. A. E. Housman, John Masefield, W. W. Gibson, J. E. Flecker have done their best to celebrate its quiet beauty; and some of the finest work of Mr.
Word Of The Day