Reading this tonight, I find myself wishing that Virginia Woolf had had access to a computer so that she could keep revising her writing.  She wants line breaks where she did not have them and semi-colons where there were commas.  So simple and so meaningfully important.  On pages 142 and 143, she wants to put a sentence about the leaden circles at the end of the paragraph, not at the beginning.  On page 128, she adds "called Smith" to the clause, "London has swallowed up many millions of young men...," and with these two small and necessary words, she conveys Septimus Smith's absorption into the city.  I feel so compassionate as I read these pages and sense her attempts to make the changes she wants economically.  I wonder if she held herself back to save the typesetters effort and the publishers money.  I wish that she could have used a computer and made all of the careful and beautiful revisions that she wanted to make.

Dreiser-- Dawn First Rough Draft Chapters 1-33 Typescript

Dreiser Mss. Dawn First Rough Draft Chapters 1-33 Typescript

I attempted to transcribe the bottom part of page 263 where he starts writing by hand and all of page 264 in the first rough draft of Dreiser’s Dawn (Chapters 1-33). I had a lot of difficulty reading his handwriting, so there are a lot of guesses. If anyone knows what the words are, please let me know and I’ll fix it.

Page 263---

But occasionally the fall [?healer] [?feal] by a rain of stones.

Then there were cats and dogs in [illegible]. I never saw more a [illegible]---- probably due to the rats. And words in white [?afirm] and [?cops] [?Lavquip] and clothes, ↑or worship th saw in basement [?laundries]↓, for this was a residence neighborhood of a better sort, three houses facing those side streets and was

Verso of Page 263---

actually what [?baffened] at the opening of our third fall [?bero]

Page 264---

a most charming small park ↑Waverly↓, I think it was called Waverly where Geoffe walked or sat of an evening and viewed a small and pretty [?lalo], in which were bright colored boots for rain. Chicago seemed all for ↑eight [?seeing] at [illegible] Geoffe loved to walk the [?b…] streets strangers all, I pressure↓ By day there were endless grocery and meat market wagons clattering here and there and ↑to say walking of↓

 a constant and varying panorama of ↑visible from our↓ rear windows  scenes which [?concerned] a

↑[?heart-…ing] ↓ world of  the new city types—ladies who made endless toilets ↑[illegible] [illegible] [illegible] ↓ during the afternoon or evening, ↑or walked about in their rooms [illegible] [illegible] and with their hands up clerks who came bustling in at five-thirty or six to dress, lounge in ↑[illegible] [illegible] ↓

 small back yard hammocks ↑in [?one] of their [?boot] yards [illegible] others↓ or rush forth to evening engagements again elsewhere.

There were those as I could see, who attempted small gardens or window boxes or who sat & read or walked too and fro enjoying their 25 x 40 evening worlds. [?Beli…] by day or evening [?goal]-fleecy or black thunderheads which [?fo] [?cealed] thunder showers showed over the [?loft] of these [?leaves] in the sky above. Pidgeons and sparrow flew here and there- the only visible birds allies than canaries in cages. Window curtains

Page 265 (for the sake of completing the sentence)---

or and shades stirred or flapped idly in the wind. 

Dreiser, Ch. 29

This transcription is from Dreiser's original manuscript of the ending to chapter 29 in his autobiography. None of this draft made it into the final copy.

"This matter or morals as anyone may readily see was already a ticklish business with me and gave me many an unhappy half hour. Not that I had any general tendency to steal or keep what did not belong to me (I did) so much as I had sharp yearnings for things which occasionally small theft or lies would have satisfied. Yet, I neither by any no means did I always lie or always stole steal--very rarely, as a matter of fact. Such lapses from an open and frank course of action were always painful to me. It is often said that a series of immoral thoughts or deeds tends to harden or blunt ones sense to everything of the same kind. I think the process of hardening is much slower than is generally imagined. In my case, in spite of a few early lapses, instead of becoming worse I became abetter. It is true that I stole a few things but finally I reached the place when I did not steal and my ultimate irregularities with women which occurred much later drove me to the ultimate conclusion that a single union would be best if it could be achieved. Yet I never could reach the place when I could accept the belief that even our moral code was is an interpretation of universal intelligence. In face, I can not believe this it. Rather I look upon human rules as springing from the need of a working equation for many types of men and great numbers. In my own case I never seemed able to recommend myself into any really paying position, which in my early years when my appetites were keen and to my hopes and longings intense made my positions seem very hard. Safe Deprivations irked me more than they did later when I was somewhat older and had more philosophy. What I took I suffered for--an result effect which I by no means offer as justification but rather as an explanation of why I think this hardening process is slow. Actually I am convinced as that it was the result of too much conscience, a thing which either in myself or others I greatly deplore. Either more courage or less conscience for anyone would be preferable where all is a dark, inexplicable world anyhow."

Dreiser's next draft came in the form of a typescript, which he also made edits too. Nonetheless, none of this ever made it into the final copy of his autobiography. By instead shortening his description on this event which impacted his life, the anecdote seems more poignant. Without the additional and excessive explanation and philosophy, the reader is left with the sense of regret that Dreiser clearly had regarding this instance.

Letter Card to Mrs. Mallalieu

TRANSCRIPTION:
Outside of Letter Card

Mrs. Mallalieu
     22 Richmond Road
          Sheperd's Bush
              London

Inside of Letter Card
                                            Ch. Ch. Oxford
                                                        July 1, 1892
Dear Mrs. Mallalieu,
      Thanks for your letter. I
shall be very glad to have Polly's
company to church: & hope we
may be allowed to read a little of
the Bible together, as I love to do
with my young friends.
      "Straps" do not sound a good
way of packing frocks without
crushing. She will like to have
one or two extra ones. as one for
walking.  Besides the one she comes
in, which will do for walking,
she might like one for such a
thing as an evening concert, &
perhaps a second morning one,
in case of being caught in a
shower. My little friend Isa Bow-
man is rather apt to dress in
gaudy colours, which I don't
much like, as it makes us too
conspicuous: but I think I

Second Card Front

need not fear that, in Polly's case, after
seeing how quietly & tastefully she was
dressed, the day I had the pleasure of her
society. It will be very little trouble to
bring my small 'pormanteau' (it is very
small) & then she can bring frocks without
any risk of creasing. Please send, with her,
enough things for a week, at least. I don"t
like to name more than 3 days, to begin with.
After that, one can judge whether she would
like to go home or stay a little longer.
     Mrs. Dyer, or her maid, will be able to
give her all the help she can need. whether
for dressing or undressing.
     Of course any theatre-engagement

Second Card Back

would prevent, or would bring to an end,
her visit, that is why I want to have
her as soon as I can, while she is still
un-engaged.
    I don't see a chance of getting to East-
bourne till 'aect' Wednesday or Thursday:
but as soon as I am settled there, I will
propose a day for fetching my newest
little friend.
                                Very Sincerely yours,
                                       C. J. Dodgson
It is a great pity that theatre-companies
if use so much of waht God means to be out
"day of rest," in travelling about: & I am
glad to think that you & Polly are having
just now, plenty of Sundays that are not
"spent in the train."


Notes on Writing
The outside of the letter card is stamped Oxford and Paddington W as to places that it has travelled through to arrive at London. The inside of the card is written with the card turned vertically, and it is very cramped writing. He marks out words, so he is not afraid to make mistakes. On the front of the second card, the card is positioned horizontally with the writing still taking up every available space. He begins to use lots of commas here and a lot of underlining for emphasis. On the back of the second card, the card is still horizontal, but it is more spacious for the paragraph with the post script being cramped.

Notes on Content
Dodgson spends the majority of this letter worrying about and speckifying what Polly should wear and how it should be packed. He has specific style s and colours that are acceptable to him. This letter leads to raised eyebrows in the way that he addresses the mother and talks about the daughter. Polly, though talked about like a child, is clearly old enough to have a profession in the theatre for he is worried about her getting called to an engagement there. He placates the mother as well as reassuring her of their activities with references of taking her to church and reading the Bible with her. It is an emphasis on the innocence of his friendship. He also makes references to how many little friends he has. Although he calls her little, she isn't a small child upon further research. She is older which adds a bit of oddity to the language used reguarding her.

Michelle's link to the Camus article

I am reposting Michelle's link to the New Yorker article about the firsr sentence of Albert Camus's novel The Stranger, because it's a little difficult access, being embedded in a comment (for the comment, see the "Additional Reading" section of this website.  The article talks about a slightly different set of issues from those we encounter in editing, yet not:   what the essay does, above all, is remind us that, and how, words do matter!

"To W.E.P." transcription

To W.E.P.

That thou art ill dos gloom me like a cloud

That has obscured the mountains and the sky

And choked the maiden day in a black shroud

And made swift waters stiff and frozen lie;

Now all things follow to their contraries;

Not cold but healing warmth should fill the day

Not these stark bushes but foliage-laden trees

Across deep summer shies their wealth should sway.

How shall we remedy this vile distress?

How woo the sun to the mount again his throne?

How bend the corn wilt grain to gild and bliss?

What means will bring back summer to her own?

There is but one; that thow shouldn’t come and tell

The lingering fields thow livest, and art well.

July 27

Page 69

To a Poet - Spender transcription

Morgan and I transcribed this poem from the Spender book.  It is a Shakespearean sonnet which he wrote on June 12, 1927.  We chose to indicate the words that Spender crossed out with strikethroughs of our own, to show which words were (presumably) written and struck out first.


To a Poet. 

Beloved musician, I will give my lyre
      For the strong playing of thy fingers' skill
To strike the deeper chords, and then the wire
      More deft than I, till chaos linger shrill
Into the thinner ecstasies of light;
      For more obedient be it to thy mind
Than mine, being gold, unnurtured, and worthy of valuing for it needs such might,
      Posessing [sic] notes of ocean, and of wind,
So take it till with sure, maturer touch,
      (Learnt from thy playing) of my tender hand,
I give back thanks with a sweet note a such
      As answereth thee; for thou wilt understand.
Play on it now, this instrument my heart
Which I lend thee, till I take up my part.



Two things I noticed about this poem - besides its quality, which is not exactly stellar -were the title and the erratic punctuation.  The title could be addressing the unknown travelling companion, because if the two were to trade their books of poetry, the travelling companion must have been a poet as well.  The punctuation just bothered us a lot because he often used it in places where it seemed unnecessary both grammatically and poetically, although admittedly neither of us is especially well versed in poetry.  

She holds a rose in her two hands, and / to her face.

A quick note on transcription-- the slanted alignment of this autograph was very likely unintentional. I think it's probably block form in more of a hurry than his other poems or, perhaps, a poem with more attention paid to the content in the moment of writing, rather than the overall presentation (which seems to be of concern to Spender, especially in later poems.) I wanted to replicate the slanted alignment in this post simply so that it resembles the autograph better. The alignment is a also a suggestion in itself-- raising questions about how Spender wrote in his journal. Were the original drafts written elsewhere, which he neatly transcribed into his nice notebook? Or were they written as the short prose descriptions suggest, that he extracted himself from a moment of travel to write a candid, reactionary aside? Like Plath we know that this artifact had an intended audience and that Spender was cultivating a certain youth-in-disinterested-revolt persona. The alignment as well as the handwriting in this poem are less neat eloquent than later poems in the notebook. Also, the bolded words are blue-ink edits. She holds a rose in her two hands, and to her face. _________________ "Why shouldst thou moch my fingers, churlish one so fair, and so fair? Though smooth as wax they still could pluck thy hair each carmine petal, stained with the late sun they still could take. And so the other cheek though offerdst for my sake being so meek? My fingers they are paper wands and grave, and wise; and thou art yielding to the hands, but what besides? If ought, I'll have thee all. Thy face to mine: and what hast thou to give?... But now like wine my soul receives the fragrance thou hast given... O Andtis no artists' beauty, it is heaven!" May 18, 1927 This piece is what I would be tempted to term a persona-poem because the speaker is the woman holding the rose (We learn on the previous page of prose that she is one of his hosts.) However, the quotes distinguish the speaker out of the poem in some ways. It becomes clear that this isn't a poem of a woman's direct thoughts (or even the thoughts of the poet imagining himself in this persona), but an assumption of her thoughts. But more on this at the end... The woman holds a rose and feels affronted by it's particularly youthful beauty (churlish one, / so fair). We can easily gather then that this woman is not young herself and feels, at some level, debilitated by the presence. She asserts that her fingers, which the rose mochs (with its thorns?), still have the agency to pluck out the personified petals (thy hair... thy cheek). Naturally, fingers can easily pluck out rose petals, but that she must convince the rose of this suggests the extent of her feelings of debilitation in the loss of youth. Or, she is defending the virtues of old age-- her fingers are instruments of power that are "grave" and "wise." She asks the rose what else it can provide besides its aesthetic beauty. But this seems more of a request from painful jealousy. She'd like to "have thee all. Thy face to mine." In the final moment, the woman is overwhelmed by bliss of fragrance-- a deep pleasure not rooted in youth or beauty and one that cannot be replicated by artists. Spender does well with his conceit here and the attempt separates this poem from the more confessional or modern poems in the notebook. We've talked quite a bit of Spender's ego, and it is not missing in this poem either. Though this is a "persona" poem of sorts, we can gather from his feelings of boredom and intellectual isolation that this poem is self-reflexive in many ways-- the thorny rose, youthful, in a prime that the inhabitants of Nantes are want.

A sonnet to be beautifully printed at the beginning of his poems.

***Sorry all, this was supposed to be posted this morning, but instead it sat in my drafts unseen :(

A few notes on my transciption of this sonnet: The double spacing is not replicating Spender's spacing. This whole poem is written as one block. I only double-spaced certain lines so that I could show words that were written above the strike outs. Anything in parentheses are words I'm unsure of. Striked out question marks are crossed out words I can't make out.

(p. 57)

A sonnet to be beautifully printed at the beginning of his poems.

The night was clear, and all the frosted sky 
          spread pale as wine around the living moon; 
          Her
          Whose sad beneficence like milk did swoon 
                      whose
Across the hills; their fleecy backs did lie on high 
      White
??? as sheep, till darkening to huge (abyss, maybe "abysms" to rhyme with "rhythm" ?) 
          left black between, where the great valley lay;
          There was no sound to take the peace away, 
No movement to disturb those slumbering rhythms:
Yet mocking the (purpurean?) dome-- a bird
          That is a poem's birth-- a thought did mar
The sky's all-vacant quiet, and deeply ??? stirred
         Reflecting in my mind, a voice from far--
                                                         unheard
The Night, that whispered to the Earth ???? Word  :---
           "Do you not see my new, my baby star?"
                                                 youngest

                                                        June 22.


I chose to transcribe this poem because I was first struck by its title. It seems that Spender favored this poem, for he wanted it to be the first poem "of his poems," whatever that may mean. To me, this poem is a small indication of this "pretentiousness" that others have talked about in class. Reading through the rest of his poems, I did not think his writing suggested that he thought too highly of his talent as a poet, at least to an excess. I would argue that this collection suggests quite the opposite, for it is a somewhat angsty journal he wrote as a teenager. One could say that he is only showing off his knowledge of poetic form by choosing to do less common sonnet forms, but he was studying in France and probably studying poetry, so it makes sense that he would try his hand at a Petrarchan sonnet.

This poem, to me, is the only example that I would point out which would suggest that he did think quite highly of himself as a poet, for the title suggests that he has picked out this particular poem to introduce his book of other poems in a future publication. The title doesn't have to be read this way. Maybe Spender is just meticulous even in his fantasies about becoming a poet later in life. There shouldn't necessarily be a negativity attached to wanting things to be ideal as Spender did. We should also ask ourselves if we only see Spender's pretentiousness in his earlier works only because he is a known poet today.

"Claire du lune"

Clair de lune

[The moon has spilt

her milk

in silver fountains

until like silk

It falls upon my knee, the poet.

Nor do I stand alone, for Romeo

Does he not lean from his high balcony

And speak to Juliet?

And does not Aeneas watch the Alpenglow

Fade, fade, from this high roof where slow

Burns his fair love, his love, the queen Dido?]

And the This music that clangs

I cannot tell

Whether it is the a madrigal

That stringsing the fretted leaves of

That mozart plays so fast; or slow 

The heart-apalling swell

of Beethoven

In the valley

- Deep –

Below

Or And sSee Stravinsky on the snow

Saw the white air (and) yet again

The foodly John Sebastian

Who moves the golden stars about their queen.

Their queen,

O(h) lovely moon.

67

     "Claire du lune" was an interesting, albeit challenging, poem to transcribe.  The work is one of the last in the book, placing it after the break (mentioned before) where it seems Spender began to adjust to a more draftsman like approach towards the page (i.e. no prose 3rd person abstract on the verso, more editorial markings, etc).  In this poem we see, perhaps, Spender's most clearly editorial hand.  I've bracketed the first dozen lines in an attempt to express the mark which appears to cut through the first half of the poem.  It's hard for me to see this as a purely deductive aim on Spender's behalf.  The line seems to begin on l. 13 and extends to the top of the poem.  As if in frustration (perhaps with this line? ("This music that clangs")), Spender extends the black mark to the top of the page.  It's perplexing to consider the poem without the first 12 lines, because there's some good stuff in there (the first five lines, for example, are lovely).  If we are to assume this mark was a decisive and ultimately reductive one, then the question then becomes why would Spender cut this chunk out?  If I were to venture a guess, I'd say it'd have something to do with the subject matter of the first twelve lines in comparison with the rest of the poem.  Namely, there is a contrast between the literary allusions to Shakespeare and Virgil in the first, ostensibly deleted section and the references to composers (Beethoven, Stravinsky, Bach) in the second, unmarked one.  Perhaps in editing Stephen decided that when discussing moonlight it is more effective to evoke a musical rather than literary sensibility to his reader.  Maybe he was listening to Debussy's version and got inspired.  Who knows.

Obviously there are some words that were a little up in the air ('slow' is one that comes to mind and obviously 'foodly' is incorrect but, I swear, this is what it looks like...maybe Spender knew something we didn't about Bach's eating habits) and could be discussed further.  That being said, I am quite proud of 'Alpenglow', a word we should all feel better for knowing.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alpenglow

-a

Just to be clear, I have updated my earlier transcription, taking into consideration some of the differences that Bernadette pointed out in her post.

Epitaph on a poet

I decided to go ahead and transcribe the "Epitaph on a poet" on page 73. I found the line breaks very interesting, so I did my best to break it up the way Spender did. I put the text in two colors to show how the date was written in a lighter blue than the rest of the epitaph. When I was typing out the date at the bottom, I couldn't decide whether to put "Jul", "July" or "Juy" as it is a sort of hybrid letter that looks like a very long "j". I settled on "l" because it was the closest I could get to the mark. I can only tell it is supposed to say "July" at all because of page 77 which has a similar character, just more well formed.


Epitaph on a poet. 

They said my life was wild ; but still I led it 

       (A haltered lion) to the very end : 

I had a word to say , and having said it 

         Turned back to Death again , my 

                                        only friend . 

                                                  Jul 26 

                       73

Two Sonnets
                             I

I HATE, detest, and ever have despised

False beauty turned to shame by cringing lust;

Nor shall my name be wrongly criticized

And I charged with  called doing what it 'y' least could trust --

Because I have not ceased to mock desire,

And that I find all naked from divine,

And shameless honesty a cleansing fire,

Your thoughts have found their evil taint in mine.

 

Youth sickens me when 'tis a growth I know

Corporeal, 'goors', and been lust to pursue,

Yet 'loveling' nature makes one half not so

But loveing high-aspiring, and  most time;

        Then let this witness what in vain I swear

        The loving is my joy, the lust my fear

 

                                                                          May 21st 1927

 

 

 

                                II

I SHALL PROTEST against thy martyrdom

For Heaven is Hell if you would make it so,

And my fair state to lower state may come

If in men's eyes my beauty fall so low;

All men are creatures of vicinity,

And to their neighbors' thoughts, react or mould --

To fiery thoughts my mind is turned by thee

Even now, which in my breast long lain cold

 

But if it cease to strike burn my heart shall say; --

  "Condemned to Hell, sin is there thine only pleasure,

And that sweet thing is lawfully thrown thy way

Now thou are found within this evil measure"

         And so I'd fall, because to sin is better

        Than be called sinnering, dobeing no such matter. *

 

                                                                                   May 22nd 1927

 

*This line revised reads "Than be called sinning, doing no such matter."

 

 

 

I attempted to recreate this work as I saw it in the text including his editing marks. My single quotes around something indicate it being hard to read what was originally written. He writes in black ink, but edits in blue ink. When he is writing in the blue ink, it is the same style but a much smaller script. My favorite line is "For Heaven is Hell if you would make it so." This piece and this line reflect his mood and thoughts through this piece as well as an interesting outlook on life. The pieces subscribe to the general rules of a sonnets with fourteen lines and a turn.

The book was interesting in and of itself. The different watermarks and the imprint of "Vidalon" on the inner side of the front cover. There is an ink spill on page 57 which is one of the water marks of Vidalon. The drawing on the second page was in the blue editing ink and the letters ENF are written in large capitol letters in the picture.

A Spender Fragment

I agree with Anjona in that he intended for this collection to be perused by others or given as a gift because of the odd prose narrative that Professor Irmscher pointed out to me. I transcribed a "Fragment for a possible romance" from the photocopies found online, but when I went to see the actual manuscript I noticed a note next to the poem itself. It indicated that this fragment was meant to capture Spender's "oppressive" mood due to the stormy weather. These little notes appeared throughout the first half or so of the collection, connecting each poem to another in a loose narrative, and then I suppose he got bored with the idea. The tone of the poem itself is rather contradictory and doesn't seem very well developed. For example, he describes the silence as "morose and dumb," two adjectives that don't seem to compliment one another. He switches between a more epic, dramatic voice, referencing the "thousand furies" of silence, and then slips back into a more simplistic description of the trees as "sentinels in emerald green." He seems to play around with alliteration, but again, is rather inconsistent with its use. Here is the poem, though it's rather more a fragment of a story than a poem, according to Spender's titulation.

Fragment for a possible romance. A description 'Before the Storm.'

The sky has bent down like a cloth that sags
stretched out on four tent poles; and a great stone
that bulges in the middle, the near sun,
has robbed the intense blue of its pure tinge.
Now it is lurid ellow, and the land
an apopleptic calmness, quivering-still.
And there is silence, most morose and dumb
until its thousand furies break the earth.
The trees are sentinels in emerald green;
and blinding white the dust; and almost parched
to shiny brightness is the velvet grass.

*                                                                                                 *                                                                                             *

Only the swallows dart in puzzled* cubes

with sharp black wings; and an acute-edged cry

cuts in vague figures all the pales of sound.

*                                                                                                 *                                                                                             *

And all so still except my seething heart!

*                                                                                                 *                                                                                             *

But see now!

                     Solemnly the branches stir

In huge grey masses, moved by a slow wind.....

A slow and heavy wind that bodeth ill.

___________________________________

 

May 19, 1927.

 

*? "startled" instead of "puzzled" perhaps. But is it worth sacrificing

the pun on jigsaw?



More thoughts and comments on Spender's "Poems Written Abroad"

I'd like to respond to the two previous posts on the Spender autograph.  First, I agree with Anjona on her observation that the layout and structure of the autograph suggests that before page 41, Spender intended for his autograph to be read by others, perhaps as a gift or as a collection of poems to share.  I noticed that he discontinues the text in prose on the left hand pages after "The Confession of the Monk Struck Blind by Lightning."  Page 42 has no introduction for "Song"; likewise, the subsequent poems do not have introductions.  So it does seem like Spender's intention for the use and audience for his autograph shifts at this point.

It is also interesting to note that the texts in prose are written in the third person--they are narrative accounts that provide some kind of context for the poem on the opposite page.  Presumably, the unnamed man who arrives in the town is the author of these poems, and that man is Spender himself.  But why write them in the third person?  Such narration in the prose passages creates a story-like quality when reading the first few poems, but the last bit of prose on page 22 provides no story or observations by the unnamed man and dryly notes the dates on which the verses were written.  Spender's disinterest in continuing the narration of the unnamed man and the shift to a passing comment on dates further suggests Spender's change in mind as to the use of this autograph (from something to share to a private journal or collection of drafts).

Like Deborra, I transcribed "Consolation of Dust"-- though with a few differences which I will point out at the end.

               The Consolation of Dust

                                1

If I have followed thee across the seas,
    And kissed the mountains, thy rich-swelling breast,
And loved thy hair the clouds, thy breath, the breeze
    Thy body the dark East, thy soul the West;

                                2

If in the ragged Eden of my mind,
    Thy golden light has shattered all the lust;
If in a woman, in a book, a friend,
    I have pursued thee through the ash and dust

                                3

Most vivid, O most brilliant, most divine,
    Love, virtue, light, and art, and all my toil,
Oh earth of beauty, wilt thou then be mine
    And lift me from thyself and from thy soil?

                                4

…Then I will die thy lover, cruel god!;
    But in thy dazed and self-reflective ease,
Thou still must hear a Dust beneath thy sod
    Living thy passionless eternities.


                                               July 23

                                71

First, a few notes:
-In stanza 3, second line, "Love, virtue," replaces the crossed out "Women, and"; in the third line, "earth of" replaces the crossed out "changing"
-In stanza 4, first line, "Then" replaces the crossed out "No"; in the second line "self-reflective ease" replaces "self-reflected love"

My transcription differs from Deborra's in a few ways.  I noticed that the poem is actually on page 71, not page 77.  It does look like "77," but the previous poem is on page 69 and the next on 73.  In stanza 1, second line, I have "rich-swelling" as hyphenated, and in the third line, I have a comma after "breath."  In stanza two, last line, I read "ash and dust" not "dark and dust."  In stanza 3, last line, I have a question mark after "soil."  In stanza 4, first line, I have an ellipse preceding "Then."  In the third line of the same stanza, I have "Dust" not "dust"--it looks like it is capitalized in the autograph.

Also, I also want to note that in the last stanza, third line, the last word is difficult to read-- at first, I thought it read "sad," but that doesn't make sense given the context of the line since it seems like a noun and not an adjective should go there.  Deborra's "sod" seems correct, and works much better than "sad"!

a transcription from page 71

 

Consolation of Dust

1

                            If I have followed thee across the seas,

                                    And kissed the mountains, thy rich-swelling breast,

                           And loved thy hair the clouds, thy breath the breeze

                                  Thy body the dark East, thy soul the West;

 

2

 

                          If in the ragged Eden of my mind,

                                 Thy golden light has shattered all the lust;

                          If in a woman, in a book, a friend,

                                 I have pursued thee through the dark & dust

 

3

 

                        Most vivid, O most brilliant, most divine,

                                 Love, virtue, light, and art, and all my toil,

                        Oh earth of beauty, wilt thou then be mine

                                 And lift me from thyself and from thy soil?

 

4

 

                     ...Then I will die thy lover, cruel god!;

                               But in thy dazed and self-reflective ease,

                     Thou still must hear a dust beneath thy sod

                               Living thy passionless eternities.

 

 

                                                                                    July 13

 

71

Thoughts on Spender's "Poems Written Abroad"

There were a few thoughts that I had in my examination of the Spender autograph, Poems Written Abroad. I wondered if Spender created this autograph for the intention for it to be a gift or to be read by others besides himself. Certain details, such as the dedication, the numbering of the pages, the illustration on the title page and the deliberate introductions to several of the poems led me to believe he did. The fact that there was a page torn from the book (as the pagination jumps to page 5) also made me think that Spender intended for others to read this autograph. However, after the poem "The Confession of the Monk Struck Blind by Lightening" concludes on page 41, he writes "FINIS" and there seems to be a shift in the intention of the book shortly afterwards. From this point, the poems seemed to be more obviously drafts, with more written corrections. So after the poem ends on page 41, it seemed like Spender may have changed his mind and used the book more as a journal.

I also noticed that there was were two watermarks on alternating pages. The first one was a script that spelled out "Vidalon" across the lower portion of the page and the second was a picture of a coat of arms in the upper right hand corner. I've been looking for more information about these marks, but if anyone else knows something about them, I'd love to hear your findings.

One of my favorite parts of the autograph was his "Two Sonnets" starting on page 18 which he introduces as: "Two sonnets of indignation on being accused of reading immodest literature with the same intent as the type of youth he dislikes [arts?] vulgar paragraphs out of newspapers."

The sonnets found on pages 19 - 21 of the autograph are transcribed as follows:

I.

I HATE, detest, and ever have despised
False beauty turned to shame by cringing lust;
Nor shall my name be wrongly criticised
And [crossed out: charged with] called doing what [crossed out: it] I least could trust -
Because I have not ceased to mock desire,
And that I find all naked form divine,
And shameless honesty a cleansing fire,
Your thought have found their evil taint in mine.

Youth sickens me when 'tis a growth I know
Corporeal, goors?, and been lust to pursue;
Yet levelling nature makes one half not so
But loving, high-aspiring, and most true;

Then let this witnes what in vain I swear
The loving is my joy, the lust my fear.

May 21st 1927

II.

I SHALL PROTEST against this martyrdom,
For Heaven is Hell if you would make it so,
And my fair state to lower state may come
If in men's eyes my beauty fall so low;
All men are creatures of viciniy,
And to their neighbours' thoughts, react or mould -
To fiery thoughts my mind is turned by thee
Even now, which in my breast had long lain cold,

But if it cease to [crossed out: strike] burn my heart shall say: -
"Condemned to Hell," sin is thiyne only pleasure,
And that sweet thing is lawfullythrown thy way
Now thou art bound within this evil measure"

And so I'd fall, because to sin is better
Than be called sinning, doing no such matter.*

May 22nd 1927

*This line revised reads "Than he called sinning, doing no such matter"

Spender's "Poems Written Abroad"

For a link and some notes on Stephen Spender's Poems Written Abroad, click on the link for "Stephen Spender" on the bar to the left.  If you cannot enlarge the images:  in the new screen that opens when you click on each image, you will see a little cog.  Click on it and you will get a choice between "view original" and "download." Either of those should get you an image that you can view comfortably.

Welcome to English 460

This is our course blog.  Feel free to use this as creatively as you like--link images, texts, whatever comes to mind as you are working with the materials for this class.  There is no prescribed length for posts and there are no deadlines.  However, I do not recommend waiting to write your posts till the end of the semester.  I will use this forum to offer thoughts, additional material and sources, and suggestions for further research.  Come back often!