New England anthology; Richard Eberhart and Peter Viereck

The following tape recorded program is a presentation of the National Association of educational broadcasters. The Literary Society of the University of Massachusetts presents the AIDS program in the series New England anthology and expression and poetry of the American concept of the free man by writers who make use of the New England scene background or heritage. Such a writer is Richard Everhart of Cambridge Massachusetts whose latest book Undercliff poems 1946 1953 was published this year by the Oxford University Press and I've been in Austin Minnesota 904 and widely travelled. Mr Eberhard has been associated with New England through a study at Dartmouth and Harvard through business in Boston and through teaching and giving readings at various New England schools. He's currently a professor of English at the University of Connecticut. Recently a mystery about Mark's new play The visionary Farms was presented in Cambridge Massachusetts by the poets theatre of which he was a founder and the first president. The word

freedom is less often heard in Mr. and hearts poems and the words death and love. He is our philosophical or religious poems in them a sensitive and thinking individual faces the limitations and pain inherent in nature but step away without futile protest or romantic whining. In loving activity within his recognized spear is man's true freedom to game that freedom demands the courage to offer one's cower in love a stubborn fidelity to the uniqueness of his vision and a clear confidence in his universality evidence to Mr. Everhart not old but really blossoming style. Let's listen to Mr. Everhart himself. He will discuss his plans as he reads them with Mr. David Clark of the literary society. Mr. Eberhardt I would like to begin by reading two poems from under death the horse chestnut

tree. One is in sporadic but tenacious drums come with sticks and certainly as often to a song the great horse chestnut tree there is a love that brings their lawlessness desires and then for a shining. I mean that. But the best sellers that are highest up they will not pick them easily from the ground with shrill imes they fling to the higher branches to hurry the work of nature for their pleasure. I have seen them tripping down the street. Their pockets stuffed with chestnuts shocked and shocked. It is only evening keeps them from their wish. Sometimes I run out in a kind of rage to chase the boys away. I catch on maybe and laugh to think of being the locket there. I was once such a young sprout myself and fingered in my pocket the

prize and trophy. But still I moralize upon the day and say that we outlaws on God's property playing out imagination beyond the sky wishing a tangible good from the unknown. And like riotous death will drive us from the scene with the great flowering running wild unbroken yet which we held in idea a little hand. The seance time. Of. The sale. Is at play off western isle in the loose flowing of the summer tirade and Britain about our strange estate resting on the wall. And lolling on the sea. I saw their curious images hypnotic sympathetic eyes as the deep

elapses of the sun. Ancient blood blued kind of forms that rise and peer from the elemental water. I line upon that one I think upon the day drawn by strong by that I don't know soft bun back to a dim pre history. Right off the point of jacket light in hundreds gracefully the front tailed turns drawn swift and sprays across the sky. Their aspirations dipped in mine the quick order of their changing spirit. Well freedom then I can see. Resting lightly on their own docks pondering and balanced on the sea they grouse and Spindrift out of the womb iin in compunction hid

and thwarted. Back in the memo long time. Enticed to the release of the sky. Mr. Klock since this is a program dedicated to the purpose of freedom. Well I don't consider myself a political poet I have loved history ever write to some critics you know I'm a political or social poet anyway. I have here a recent issue of The London Times Literary Supplement. It has in it every view of your new book Undercliff the reviewer admits that your poems are not directly concerned with the social scene. On the contrary he says they deal at most entirely with themes of universal significance but in their eagerness their curiosity their lust to explore any subject that might prove a source of interesting speculation and in their great strength and vitality they must stand as a document of the American mind and a key passage in its history.

They could be read with advantage he says by historians newspaper editors sociologists and politicians. Earlier he said that a book like this does more to anonymize the essentials of American life during the dramatic contradictory postwar years than any volume of statesman speeches or admiral admirals and I'm not. I think what the reviewer says is true a great deal of social relevance can be found even in the two poems you have read. But I'm not sure the historians editors sociologists and politicians with things up. Have you anything which would convince them. Well Mr. Cox I don't know whether I have anything that would convince them but it occurs to me that there is a poem entitled letter one which I wrote at the end of World War 2 which might bear on this subject. At the end of the war I wrote a long poem

dealing with certain problems and one of them was the relation of the scientist to the poet and I should like to read in this connection a passage on that subject. It goes as follows. Now we come to the type called scientist a race of my heroes with no further wish to run so far from the truth of nature. Confound it that they know what the inside of an atom is and will not rest content until a pound dustbowl into the earth with bombs and they're impound us awaiting the biggest bomb of 0 0 Nations final. Yes their brains can hardly wait to arrive at this instead of going to the root of man. They choose to go to the root of matter that's been hate. They have lost wholly and would not care for Dad to ingest a soul they have no spleen and they have no pity. But bomb the people and radiate away a city. The delicacy of their intellectual perceptions is only exceeded by the depth of their deceptions by

brain power alone they can operate too cold for and too cold for hate not comprehending the best interest of the state and of the deep needs of men insensate. These men have example of the brain too much and measure of the world. I know the world. As such they are the positive evidence areas of evil. The sin of the stadia as really what they deal in. But they will have to learn to measure less and at the heart of man is the measure less. Not space time energy. Continue our Funtown. Else since laugh they must surely wander to false goods. Ungainly stance the panderers. I recognize my bias in this letter and take with one hand what I give with the other. Who will say what's false what is true. The scientists are responsible in what they do. It only seems more monstrous that they do it. When death usurps what Fenner life was intended.

And so to make distinction of the robbing trees often in the night when the wind will wake I will wake and in the distance and unnatural sound will come up two huge branches rubbing together it is a strange sound of constriction and necessity. A kind of first rhythm and agency of thought. Left alone in their uninterrupted growths the huge benches do not quarrel but the room exacerbates their potential in compatibility and then all night they sing their ruckus song. Well those are from the same trunk and the same tree as it is with science and with poetry. Both are part of man's estate and effort both come from the trunk. The root the seed of man. And.

Another point on this subject. I'd be I'm shooting particles beyond the world. But White Sands New Mexico December 18th EOP they first saw a little something into the skies this week he said. Then a little more right then a shipload of instruments then ourselves and a quotation. On this day man's discussed is known inside him before but not often blown with minor wars of major consequence duly building and Pyrrhic of delusion. Now this little creature in a rage like newborn infant screening Compleat Angler objects to the whole globe itself and with a vicious London's Heathrow metal particles beyond the orbit of mankind. Beethoven shaking his fist at death. A giant dignity in human terms is nothing to

this imbecile. Metal. You know Ray the world is too much for him. The green up earth is not enough. Love's deities peaceful intercourse happiness of nations the wild animal that's out on the desert. If the nanny act would only realize the comforts of his padded cell he would have penetrated the impenetrability of the spiritual. It is not intelligent to go too far. How he frets that he can't go to but his particles would name a star is free floating bombards rock the moon good that way we pass the baby to a rock Tate. We pass him then for education. Good boy or a man in the woods I put out from now space will be you know vomitorium the atom bomb excepted this world is hatred of man blue death in his face

but not content he'll send slugs beyond his particles of intellect will spit on the sun. Not God he'll catch in the mystery of space he flaunts his own outcast state as he throws his imperfections Outward Bound and his shout that gives a hissing sound. The fury of aerial bombardment. You would think the fury of aerial bombardment would rouse God to relent the infinite spaces are still silent. He looks on shock pride faces history even does not know what is meant. You would feel that after so many centuries God would give man to repent. Yet he can kill ask Cain

but with nothing to miss. We are no farther advanced than in his ancient fury was Nat made stupid to say yes I'm stupid to take is God by definition indifferent beyond us all. Is the eternal truth. Man's fighting so. Long run the beast Ravens in its own love editing iván lettering. I speak and after our names on a list whose faces I do not recall but they are gong to early death who late in school distinguished the belt Feedly back in the building. Plans from selected pines and undeclared have been read by Mr. Everhart by permission of the Oxford University Press New York. But you win next year. Is Peter Varick born in New York educated at Harvard

in Oxford. Peter very good is now a professor of history not Holyoke College his first bottle of times time and decorum won the Pulitzer Prize in 1949. Since that time he has published verse and prose is most recent body I'm being the first morning and shame in the latter way of the intellectuals. Mr. Barrett will discuss his plans with Mr. all the traitor of the Literary Society Mr. Schrader. Before you read your first poem Mr the egg would you tell us whether you see any special weakness in America which you think support can help rectify. Here is a new development that gives me the Nineteen Eighty-Four shot as they are unless scholarship blanks. I'm asking us teachers is your student well adjusted. Popular a good mix up in a fact a regular Falla. I can only enhance I hope not and wonder how many credit

points for adjustment to mediocrity would be won by say a young tough guy with a laugh of the future against this menace of the all too well-adjusted man. A new hero marriages in America today. The unadjusted man. The public can no longer be a prophet and be explicated of the universe. Not in science has deprived him of that function but instead he can assume a less dramatic but actually nobler. Role that of the complete and uncompromising. I'm not just a man. You can talk civil liberties and prosperity and democracy but the tongues of men and angels. But it is merely a case of Free from blocks and not free. Fat lot if you were you was this freedom you know want to commit. Television ought to go lusting after comic books.

My. First. Poem is simply cold. Well I'm not a poet of the poet but the Platonic idea of the public in general as creative as they stir up of those who are over I just did the poem begins when the poem becomes interesting after his death. The image which I picture is a revival of all the cliches that are romantic banalities whom he has kept in touch up and then I picture the austerity of the poet's sense of a long subject going public. The night he died. Images came to get out in liberation round his tomb. Things fell coming

down and faces than to argue with his metaphor and style just fancy painted on the sky dropped down like sole rights to p.s. it's too wide eyes were red step back fade that is caught in a bank. Lash AB heads. Seeing now run things in head saying no to Satan exiled mountains and mud out openly against his rank while rumors clichés hang out red lights again past refugees report from far flung towns that exclamation marks are running a line out and prowling half truths carried off a child but he lives on in. Then we shall shatter had this chilling list. Mutiny. I've

met. His bones are dead. His voice is hardly strong almost faint. Tripe ration is off life's dancing dust Mr. Wright's name hangs up the right. And. Yeah. And last about this bill Diane picks up his song scansion a flashing hand list and then flow the dramas of Judy and renowned spray gong Mia Grace now that living found yet tyrannic metronome was every get. This some shy cry that read long ago. One Tarot crown this week of a song. By heart that's leaps and bounds from me. Soft yellowing and hammers us to shapes we never planned. This was a

different dying from our own calling every wizard in the land belt test you let the doc be rife with every exons system we command in the vain of it that is stronger. Than our life. In the evening we drive our stakes through such a point that when I was with highest applied things such as a bank president by my god when timelike maps of having bridge is downwind of frost micro class in college he is lost. Yet some sort of brain cannot read age as gas that we have being but I have spent the last and the last Women least we now if and when how it will just seems hostile or useless are hard.

Not to work. It's not the way it is in such a gong Rajaram Rams around a man staying in Crawl. He sings the seasons around from back to snuff and all things are because he wheeled them out. My second problem tries to get away from this somewhat from pragmatic first call I being merely a lyrical Senshi West column without any other message except it left a nation between dreams sensuous life on the one hand symbolize my life all against bright green sensuous life on the one hand and on the other hand as the rival motif that followed the death of the autumnal side fun for Link's room set on him and the

winds are blowing approach and threatening the green ladies. I can't express stands as in love with life. And hockey. Right hand this way and tell it to the market slaves. It Falls area is back on the shack a mile back. Back and forth when wrestling whatever hang down. Yes but nothing worse than this allow a child goes down like a wave that jumps upon seven slow way down the top that song and a thousand drops for still more laid away. Maybe we together in one Hong Kong together are together again. Not one single Haggis child one laid low down. Let when's be fiddled by the grass thing what else can we.

Do to these august leave. Green ankles as crazy as your show has been none shall come. I'll tell you. I am light tan issue which is hiring by an artist. Here's a live shot of arriving rhododendron dredging at senior week champagne every morning drowsy and feel like a great carnivora longeing and one green leaf. Harmless song. On Tang. Yeah no jungle ground sniffer. Long before one chill passing slight white cotton socks disheveled curfew and the start my. Friend. Our. Knees and pray. And the music of growl.

Is hiring by the workers. Inexhaustible waterfalls of green black shot crazily in dark directions lavish rippling through blue veins on the cotton blouses resonance from Little me along down down like a bangle down wind down she sad sad long Hello. Nobody can no longer a lady. All right you know I guess. When things come out only how much you land I'll hand the ring he never hears. I'm going to win due to an august lady right now I'm just that's crazy as you're sure.

But if you're here I'm seeing apples. It was Cannot tug us down this be August August. Love love love long. Writing. Longer bloggers death she didn't touch she died she when a black cocker sum up why is it found. Listen for the first one. And had to share. In your CFI can you hear rain fading I was slightly horribly wrong lead apple red head down and asked in this little red light. And I have a slight. Menace is the name of the small bridge between the layers.

Oh. Running one pair of slight tennis sure was raised by an organ. How are ya. I'll keep that grain of organs low. Thinks not at home a definite fan of. Thanks not to have a life its death will feed. ONE HOUR. Oh deepening foliage sweep of the long run heavy green I want his whole life before your gone. Life scented me hugging me or really grand good ratings growth. Really I'm grown head and heat. Tom Morris wait long. Long enough for him to live on. Drowning is floating Reed whose big is off

rugs in Emerald flowers slow morning glad to let a long deep breathing flushed cheek against bleed Yonhap sock Tiriel green in flowered hide back down into the lounge. You lean. On eyes have Mad-Eye light all that green stood still. Oh what truck. But one smile brings to rest that. I now live our lives as dark as oh I guess I shall glance back way after all the good God. Thank you very much Mr. Varick. This program was presented by the Literary Society at the University of Massachusetts. It was produced for the National Association of educational broadcasters under a grant from the Educational Television and Radio Center. This is the eighth in a series of programs untitled New England anthology.

Expression and poetry of the American concept of the free man by writers who make use of the New England scene background or heritage project supervisor was Robert Tucker production director at them is a technical assistance with the West Smith and William outfit scriptwriter David Carr and Richard haven. If you race with David Clark and I don't fret there is programs produced on the campus of the University of Massachusetts in Amherst. The narrator was Arthur needed. This is the ne AB network.