Georgian Poetry 1916-1917 — A Closer Reading
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For Georgian Poetry 1916-1917 — A Closer Reading, the stored edition analysis reports 24,394 words, 1 hr 47 min estimated reading time, and 5 detected text sections.
The text analysis averages about 23.1 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.
Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “English poetry -- 20th century,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.
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Read the Text
They had stolen my soul away!
I saw a frieze on whitest marble drawn Of boys who sought for shells along the shore, Their white feet shedding pallor in the sea, The shallow sea, the spring-time sea of green That faintly creamed against the cold, smooth pebbles.
The air was thin, their limbs were delicate, The wind had graven their small eager hands To feel the forests and the dark nights of Asia Behind the purple bloom of the horizon, Where sails would float and slowly melt away.
Their naked, pure, and grave, unbroken silence Filled the soft air as gleaming, limpid water Fills a spring sky those days when rain is lying In shattered bright pools on the wind-dried roads, And their sweet bodies were wind-purified.
One held a shell unto his shell-like ear And there was music carven in his face, His eyes half-closed, his lips just breaking open To catch the lulling, mazy, coralline roar Of numberless caverns filled with singing seas.
And all of them were hearkening as to singing Of far-off voices thin and delicate, Voices too fine for any mortal wind To blow into the whorls of mortal ears-- And yet those sounds flowed from their grave, sweet faces.
And as I looked I heard that delicate music, And I became as grave, as calm, as still As those carved boys. I stood upon that shore, I felt the cool sea dream around my feet, My eyes were staring at the far horizon:
And the wind came and purified my limbs, And the stars came and set within my eyes, And snowy clouds rested upon my shoulders, And the blue sky shimmered deep within me, And I sang like a carven pipe of music.
I love a still conservatory That's full of giant, breathless palms, Azaleas, clematis and vines, Whose quietness great Trees becalms Filling the air with foliage, A curved and dreamy statuary.
I like to hear a cold, pure rill Of water trickling low, afar With sudden little jerks and purls Into a tank or stoneware jar, The song of a tiny sleeping bird Held like a shadow in its trill.
I love the mossy quietness That grows upon the great stone flags, The dark tree-ferns, the staghorn ferns, The prehistoric, antlered stags That carven stand and stare among The silent, ferny wilderness.
And are they birds or souls that flit Among the trees so silently, And are they fish or ghosts that haunt The still pools of the rockery!-- For I am but a sculptured rock As in that magic place I sit.
Still as a great jewel is the air With boughs and leaves smooth-carved in it, And rocks and trees and giant ferns, And blooms with inner radiance lit, And naked water like a nymph That dances tireless slim and bare.
I watch a white Nyanza float Upon a green, untroubled pool, A fairyland Ophelia, she Has cast herself in water cool, And lies while fairy cymbals ring Drowned in her fairy castle moat.
The goldfish sing a winding song Below her pale and waxen face, The water-nymph is dancing by Lifting smooth arms with mournful grace, A stainless white dream she floats on While fairies beat a fairy gong.
Silent the Cattleyas blaze And thin red orchid shapes of Death Peer savagely with twisted lips Sucking an eerie, phantom breath With that bright, spotted, fever'd lust That watches lonely travellers craze.
Gigantic, mauve and hairy leaves Hang like obliterated faces Full of dim unattained expression Such as haunts virgin forest places When Silence leaps among the trees And the echoing heart deceives.
"But there was one land he dared not enter."
Beyond the blue, the purple seas, Beyond the thin horizon's line, Beyond Antilla, Hebrides, Jamaica, Cuba, Caribbees, There lies the land of Yucatan.
The land, the land of Yucatan, The low coast breaking into foam, The dim hills where my thoughts shall roam The forests of my boyhood's home, The splendid dream of Yucatan!
I met thee first long, long ago Turning a printed page, and I Stared at a world I did not know And felt my blood like fire flow At that strange name of Yucatan.
O those sweet, far-off Austral days When life had a diviner glow, When hot Suns whipped my blood to know Things all unseen, then I could go Into thy heart O Yucatan!
I have forgotten what I saw, I have forgotten what I knew, And many lands I've set sail for To find that marvellous spell of yore, Never to set foot on thy shore O haunting land of Yucatan!
The poems in Georgian Poetry 1916-1917 share a preoccupation with sensory immediacy and the tension between the transient and the eternal. W.J. Turner's sonnet sequence, for instance, opens with a speaker who 'answer[s] to the vast, as wave by wave / The sea of air goes over,' a line that yokes bodily sensation to cosmic scale. The diction is deliberately plain—'dry or wet,' 'tingles'—yet the syntax coils into long, clause-laden sentences that mimic the restless consciousness they describe. This blend of the quotidian and the metaphysical recurs across the anthology, as when Ralph Hodgson's 'The Gipsy Girl' fixes on a 'tawny' figure with 'lumps of gold' in her ears, a detail that is at once precise and exoticizing. The editor, Sir Edward Howard Marsh, has selected poems that foreground such moments of sharp, often tactile observation, even as they reach toward abstraction.
Diction and the Physical World
Across the excerpts, the poets favor concrete nouns and verbs that anchor abstract reflection in bodily experience. In Turner's sonnet, the speaker imagines pressing 'past the guards in those grey gates, / The brain's most folded, intertwisted shell' to find 'the Master Cell.' The anatomical metaphor—'grey gates,' 'folded, intertwisted shell'—turns introspection into a physical journey. Similarly, Hodgson's gipsy girl is described through her 'flaring yellow scarf' and 'jingled' earrings, sounds and colors that make her vivid without psychological depth. The anthology's diction often oscillates between the homely and the elevated: a 'penny for three tries' sits alongside 'the unearthly self beyond, unguessed, untold.' This juxtaposition is characteristic of Georgian poetry's effort to find the sublime in the everyday.
Dialogue and the Speaking Voice
Direct speech is sparse in the excerpts, but when it appears, it carries weight. Hodgson's poem begins with a street cry: 'Come, try your skill, kind gentlemen, / A penny for three tries!' The imperative and the colloquial address establish a scene of public transaction, yet the poem quickly shifts to the speaker's private admiration. In Turner's sequence, the only quoted speech is the speaker's own cry: 'You strange grave thing, what is it you would say?' This line, addressed to an absent beloved, breaks the meditative tone with a sudden, almost theatrical exclamation. The anthology thus uses dialogue sparingly, as a device to puncture lyric introspection or to anchor a poem in a specific social moment. The voices are never fully dramatized; they remain fragments that hint at stories left untold.
Descriptive Patterns: Light, Water, and the Body
Recurring descriptive motifs bind the collection. Light appears as a measure of presence and loss: Turner's 'full moon comes swimming from her cave,' and later 'the moon hid in a cloud.' Water imagery—'wave by wave,' 'the sea of air,' 'the waters ebbed'—suggests flux and continuity. The body is a site of both vulnerability and wonder: 'the trembling blood when the discoverer scans / The sought-for world,' or 'my being felt you to the bones.' These images are not merely decorative; they structure the poems' arguments about mortality and perception. In Hodgson, the gipsy girl's 'tawny' skin and 'lumps of gold' are metonyms for a wild, transient beauty. The descriptive choices consistently privilege the sensory over the symbolic, grounding the anthology's metaphysical concerns in the physical world.
Structure and the Lyric Sequence
Several poems in the excerpts employ sonnet or sonnet-like forms, but with notable structural liberties. Turner's sequence uses a loose iambic pentameter and irregular rhyme schemes, as in the couplet 'Then, on Man's earthly peak, I might behold / The unearthly self beyond, unguessed, untold.' The enjambment and the shift from conditional to declarative create a sense of striving. Other poems, like Hodgson's, use shorter, ballad-like stanzas with alternating rhyme. The anthology's arrangement—grouping poems by author and often by source collection—encourages readers to compare formal choices. The prefatory note, though not excerpted fully, likely frames these as 'Georgian' in their rejection of Victorian ornament. The structures themselves, however, are varied: some poems build toward a rhetorical climax, others circle back to an opening image, and a few, like Turner's, end with a direct address that feels unresolved.
Readers approaching this anthology should attend to the interplay between the poets' shared idiom and their individual voices. The excerpts reveal a consistent interest in the border between the self and the world, often rendered through precise, physical language. Because the full text includes many more poems, the patterns noted here may be amplified or complicated by later sections. The editorial choices—which poems to include, how to order them—invite a comparative reading that foregrounds craft over theme. For those studying early twentieth-century poetry, this collection offers a concentrated sample of the Georgian aesthetic in its wartime context.
It’s curious how those wartime anthologies linger—Marsh’s careful diction feels like a held breath. Reading the sharp, plain speech of the Hodgson excerpts brings back a similar quiet ache I found in the biblical echoes of The Man of Uz, and Other Poems — Themes and Context. Some losses only speak clearly in a voice that refuses ornament.
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