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Realm of A. MacLeish

COLLECTED POEMS 1917-1952, by Archibald MacLeish: Houghton Mifflin Company, 407 pp., $4.00

By Jonathan O. Swan

Unlike painters, most contemporary poets are active in public affairs. William Carlos Williams and Wallace Stevens, to mention a few, are doctor and insurance salesman respectively. Of this group, Archibald MacLeish has been the closest to the nerve center of public opinion, political foray, and philosophic debate. Assistant Secretary of State, Assistant Director of the Office of War Information, and planer of the United Nations Educational. Scientific and Cultural Organization are among the positions that he has held.

Immersed in such activity, MacLeish has faced the problems of democracy first hand, and has been conscious especially of the ambiguities and has been conscious especially of the ambiguities and enigmas of life. His subject matter, therefore, often lies in the realm of forces which affront human dignity and which threaten human freedom. One never doubts his sincerity and authority. Yet his feelings tend to overshadow some of his work, the flame obscures the value of the poem as a whole. Selections from Frescoes for Mr. Rockefeller's City (1932) and Public Speech (1936) have this blemish, although they contain, vivid imagry. MacLeish's thought is poignant and direct; but one becomes exhausted with sheer oratory.

When the poet turns to an historical event in which to inject emotions of his own life and age, he is more successful. Conquistador, a long poem about the conquest of Mexico, reveals, a thorough understanding of war's effect on individuals. Composed in three-line classic meter, the poem is free of obtrusive personal comment and conveys brilliantly the horror of death, the elation of victory, and the awe of discovering new land.

Aside from MacLeish's historical interest, the countryside lures his attention. Equating fall planting, rivers blood-red from, leaves, and spring thaw with human birth in The Pot of Earth (1925), he creates a simple, enthralling experience. Eleven is a magnificent poem about an unassuming incident--a boy going to rest in a barn before lunch--which takes on many subtle meanings. The expression is low-power and the structure is well suited to the tone. As a matter of fact, MacLeish rarely forces words to rhyme just for the sake of rhyme. Even while he experiments with different forms, his poetry is never sacrificed to structure. At times he may be captured by the music of words or a pleasant rhythm which jumps out of context; but that is a vice common to all poets.

MacLeish also joins other poets in his obsession with time. Writing of The Farm which lasts through generations, he asks, "Why do you listen, trees? Why do you wait? Why do you fumble at the breeze-- Gesticulate ...?" These works on time are the least interesting, the most prosaic because the poet demands an answer all the way through and, of course, can never give one.

MacLeish's greatest achievement, I believe, is his latest published long poem, The Trojan Horse. In it, he has overcome his inability to write on current political threats without beclouding his work with fiery fist-shaking. Following the ancient tragedy, he depicts the horse as a menace, which only a mad girl and Helen realize. The people, confused by the symbol for which it represents, denounce the two women and admit the horse to Troy. MacLeish is one of few poets who has expressed a modern dilemma with such vitality, deftness, and fearlessness. If the task of poetry is to create or recreate life, one hopes that this poet will not be alone in treating the most urgent problems which confront men today.

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