BOOKS
119
The poetry of Peter Viereck is often both pleasant and accom–
plished; light in tone, you might say, but never lacking in that sug–
gestion of more serious stuff beneath the surface, a suggestion which
no poet these days will do well to do without; there are also mythology
and quotations from literature in foreign languages. Here is an example.
HOME, JAMES
Time's tumbling curtain means: "Pinita
e
_".
Hell's jolly beavers gnaw at every sprout.
Mankind's last headline calls it doomsday-day.
The sun stands still and wilts in every way;
Sometimes a comet tries to run away
("Snuffed trying to escape," the Agents gloat);
Sometimes a planet seems to try to pray.
Now . . postponed ... dreams ... shout.
The hot and disappointed lipsticks pout.
Apocalyptic apoplexies fray
The nerves of Cranos like a Gaffer's gout.
Not ants but grasshoppers have won the bout
Because there is no piper left to pay.
Who disconnected breath from clay?
Hey,
Who ... pulled the .. . socket. . out?
It is difficult, in our excitement, to know what we admire most, or first,
about this poem-the skillful regularity of the meter? the way in
which the syntactical and metrical units exactly coincide, one phrase
to one line, to produce the lilting effect so characteristic of this poet's
work? the alliterations and assonances (line 1O)? the highly com–
pressed allusions to literature and mythology (lines 1, 11, and 12)?
the irony (title)? the nature imagery (lines 2, 4, 5, etc.)? the aware–
ness of the contemporary scene (lines 3, 6, 9, 15)? or perhaps it is
the morality
(passim)?
Anyhow, all these features work together to
produce, in their intricate weavings and delicate tonal combinations,
this poem. This poem is by no means the best in
The Pirst Morning,
any more than it is the worst; probably the worst-allowing for the
fact that I can't read German and have had to omit the consideration
of three poems in that tongue-is one called "Love Song of Prufrock
Junior," the first in a series called "1912-1952, Full Cycle."
Must all successful rebels grow
Prom toreador to Sacred Cow?
W hat cults he slew, his cult begot.
" In my beginning," said his Scot,
