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The following tape recorded program is a presentation of the National Association of educational broadcasters. The Literary Society of the University of Massachusetts presents New England anthology and expression poetry of the American concept of the free man by writers who make use of the New England scene background or heritage. And that's the first program of the series which will have the opportunity of hearing the points and comments of such a writer in Robert Sullivan here. Robert who was born in New Jersey in 1895 but comes from many generations of Connecticut lawyers professors and soldiers. He was educated at Harvard and has taught at Harvard for almost 20 years as well as a Trinity and most recently the University of Delaware which is just conferred upon him the honorary degree of Doctor of letters. Mr. Pierce collected price was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for poetry in 1934 where and I noticed Mr.
Hilliard that you published at least two novels since then Riverhead my heart for hostage and three volumes of poetry patterns of the day plans for music in 1952 the suburb of the city. All these problems have been published by Alfred A cannot and a presented with his permission. Perhaps Mr. clear of the Great Society would like to ask you a few questions either about yourself. Or about your plan. I think the best introduction to any poet and to his personal philosophy is to be found in his poems. Well just come right back Dr. Johnson's friend. I love philosophy. The cheerfulness creeps in spite of it. So does the Spirit sift it right away into its best preparing for the day when different from its golden new quiz show right is that I think not a tune to happy skies
but happiest guys that phrases fast in staff. This being Connecticut is good enough. Nice shining a cause in the house I built. Well gauge to the health if I want to make some changes here and there with the Halos play. I might. Have a. New England winter as well my big could take it and make it snow and enjoy it. Hey Rose Babs should all be banished and with those the people who see rose buds on the rose. And yet I shrink from this arrest jail but the boom that's through the improvements I sell right assume responsibility for things in bloom and Sean. I have fully resigned to God the natural way. Oh that our statesman would adopt you mentioned Connecticut again.
Elsewhere in one of your later poems written under Yes it comes in quite frequently because I know I have a part of it. True true there is a landscape babying Connecticut Trouts Massachusetts in Hayes on Hayes m Hills falling away by clever lies obscuring the fact I think to use geography as figure in Connecticut. I face the ocean. Yet it Tim was hit far offset it. I face the mountains yet climb never to them. I face the mills of blooming Massachusetts. Yet do not sweat I jingled coin and pocket. I face New York and that makes me distant and seasonable shifts on time and out shell of the sun changing him to when to sell status.
I listen to what is in my mind to music that sings that way and I wear it and the well then can I get is a kind of something that doesn't represent mystery here a kind of detachment of some sort. Well I suppose a certain spiritual detachment is necessary for the full enjoyment of freedom and yet the full enjoyment of freedom also demands that. Did the free association with other positions and that's what I tried to save a son called from the foothills. By many as we reach the single go and all are cold steel but with its name. There is no cell so different from myself as in its essence to be not the same. No right but in his heart must know how to triumph is not proud. No the engine's sweet when he beholds who slays the Kindred
fellow himself self-admitted lying at his feet. It has been written that way on the island which ocean sundered into seeming to a. I truly have one continent the heavens rather one ROP. And really hid in one place right Himalayan pace the humblest crest one with the splendor. Of Mt. Everest. What is the barrier which you imply you're mistaken here between man and man. I suppose it is a preoccupation with material things which I had a good. A good deal to say. For example. Always more riches more enjoyment more of everything the world can briefly give those who really are abit ahead just as through a sieve beauty's unnumbered. And unnoticed.
You chase the wind but you are a fugitive from the great quiet moments caught and spendthrift of life's measurable stole out. You have not purchased the man a right. To live. I seem to remember another line Mr. here which comes very close to the theme which we've been developing in these programs. The boundless freedom of the discipline I think you say. Yes that comes incentive to out of the serious cold in a time of mistrust and that also is indicative of my general philosophy I suppose. It goes this way. The city itself is the fulfillment. Now when we are nagged by every sterile cause that is really new amid these brawls of the South contemplation to the ancient laws in groves when no wind reaches to destroy it but time itself dies with the
sunset wind that is renew a spiritual joy the boundless freedom of the disciplined we should be jeered at. As the uncouth host Jedd the patience of that monkish toy whose beacon moves mocked upon a windswept coast where wisdom have found refuge for me to love the flight beyond the wit of for those who must resist some power. From the beginning. Dust seems to color. It within in the bed on the serious side. And freedom has other aspects one of which I think is the freedom of the young soldier. On leave. And with your permission I'd like to wager a reminiscent poem. Call the early in the morning about myself. In Paris. And leave during the festival.
And in the morning a bit of a Sunday as they levered the bright awning at the outdoor cafe I was breakfasting across town and cafe au lait and the greenery nice scenery refunds about a penny a day. There was enough pavement with a dash of flashing spray and a smell like so much stuff just when the dust is drenched away and it being really like scenery. Re France fucked anyway. I was 20 and alive and in paradise just today they did it in the morning. Of the love this summer day while we were in Paris. Just ahead here in times of mistrust you seem to condemn all material things but I noticed in another poem called The Gentle got me you make a hook symbol of a famous French taxicab. Yes of course you can make a sweeping condemnation of everything especially
material things which in the last analysis do make us comfortable melanin and sometimes as in the case of these lowly taxicabs of 900 fucking do something heroic. This poem is about general galley today and is historically. Correct. Who now remembers general Galloway whose Paris taxicabs one lung didn't take a charge to the mon just as the Kaiser's veiny and DD were about to turn to Vicky like heads of superannuated capital. The lame asthmatic vehicle stampeded backfiring honking cavalry to battle with reinforcements just when they were needed. Yes Miss say the politicians boldly returned from a fact. But being none too partial to getting his methods thank him cold and he was five years dead the name to myself. They
near-sighted warrior. Gets a column in the Britannica. Has one well fitted to be a mug shot but the telly just summed up his crowning feat. It's gone for a limited joke is remembered with an egg. And Fudge. The famous. Take down. This isn't it Sam does. But getting none. Plus the bonus was his embezzled taxes. None remember us. Except their roll them in the bitty blowing his evening echoed note full on. Smiles reinsure good. To hear. I'm the bravest they entering home. Of getting his home. And you think you could get us back to the mainland Christine. I'll bring you right across the ocean to a typical American scene if we have time for it. Oh of course. I'm the boy.
Then you go around go around the seas saying the bad the rooms the wealth is gonna me merry go round merry go round go round the dragon tramples to the table sound the land stick the dignified dismay as I'm behind the boss his natural prey. Now night. The giraffe can almost feel along the lengthy throat imagine me crushed from those luscious bulbs of colored light that man's in bed for the tempt the appetite. Children mount the fabled steeds in from heaven with beaming one of them is I. Not for the right alone I spend on make up facts and at times he's favorably fickle and down the ring strut suddenly make a shiny brass ring for another ride. The ocean Mimas this I'll not destroy that Tempest as outtake but not that.
The living room the evaporates to my own beneath the right of sit. Night on the town at whose repellent fathomless command foundations of the will that bound her satin bag around bank. Around go down from heaven with children when a whale this drought the kind that bites Well I'm forever but some mechanic grapples with a lever the motion slackens with a sickening job. I'm listening to these dead people. Wait for me children. They may not know it I'm dance ex machina and a poet. Let's break these details to heaps of Chadian will scour the jungle and read the range mag around the merry go round government out of the house dispense the lands make unbound the Spain is ours for keeps and the brass ring is out for keeps and right. And everything. I think we have time for one more question here.
Well that is really all I am so I suppose I need a break and go home. They say that. I have the boat come home yet have the sails off the sound from the mon stead of Sunset and up around the blue represented now and a lot of times down the day should never end. Add up a happy day like this. I must remember to recall when things go amiss the family waiting that failed never. And how I wanted to live forever. Thank you very much Mr. here. It's a pleasure to have on this program also with a poet and teacher John Holmes. Mr. Holmes was born in Massachusetts educated at Tufts college at Harvard where by the way he learned with Mr. here or something of those two difficult arts
writing and teaching others to write which he's devoted his past 20 years as a professor of English at Tufts. I want to ask you Mr. Holmes which of those two tasks you found most demanding. I do think Mr. Clodd I would like to ask you a question or two concerning freedom. That is is the theme is dealt with in your verse. Yes Mr. Holmes I would we have been concerned as you know with the problem of freedom and the demands with any degree of freedom puts upon the individual what would you say was the most difficult of these demands. I think the thing that makes it most difficult when there is any freedom at all is that one must make decisions and then have the courage to. You act on them. You must be willing to accept that much responsibility in this first point I should like to be and based upon personal experience. I'm afraid I dodge that responsibility. It is called the broken line. The toying book we've been and the dead tree silent
of sap and when we cut down what space can we spare for an icebreaker. I landed with a wing. I'm not grown. We intervene by boat semi human beings captured in a net we shall spread chaos over a twilight miss Brant to the station for study is not the Osprey rare the Motherwell die of feeding it off try south from with a leg up the broken one shrink crying and flapping and left by as the slow must be already all is done yet we stare steadily into it some day and then laughing to meet one. Today is the day we die all the little leaving the bread to be still wrecked mine. Long it will drift away 10 down a well a mess of wind and sun but nothing happens as we are careless of one another.
And of the broken one to be blast away do not bless. What happened was that the game warden was told Oh in official kindness came saw. And carried the big bird off. A pardon for no crime for which there is no name. But I suppose there are other experiences in which you did succeed to some extent at least. One is contained in the point called the kill. I may add that the Indians really did have a. Quick prayer asking for forgiveness for killing an animal which may be a way of shifting their responsibility I suppose. The old Indians had time to think and had a prayer they muttered at Vostro. And as they let go of the arrow clan suck and the dead dead to eat up patted they had to eat but a killing
cars for a car ride and the gods keep count. I have been thinking how to ask absolution for butchering a family. Come on wet breather and run to a Chuck good Chomper and some meat. We must accomplish a sacrifice and click and meet click other metal will break my breakable heart like yours was wanted at the world's corners for a part. Depraved as market chopping blocks and hop stalls when I remember as I do Lilo among my metal lovers. Whether or not you know I stretched myself uphill and I was down front Oh I stand at a square foot full of bugs. Blades stone grains not much of anything but making tracks and rustle a sort of lifelike and with too much time to ask why not. Into the ground. I head back to the old nearing stump. Thoughtless sound.
Dismount a drift above the bushes between Sky and the ropes I had my nose in. Yeah double clamp went by two eyed clover and butter cups and small green whatever. I've never smelled better scent snow. You'll move on now that's all over and a rather well worthwhile. Now to be Roman. Now dyed to my saying the ritual Col. Brown white and white and brown impermanent calm the faithful in the rattle plank bind let down until now. Sweet milk and warm and I'm homogenized as rain smores flanked drool I'm stuffed with a lack of green I in my head a a sweat head and sides to feed you know these cold times and kind of a gracious ness need you dumb begged ambling life calm my animal I must kill.
I think it is because there are so many of us. But I'll do it. Don't forgive me everybody. Somebody the noble Romans in their practical minds were ready and their priests ready. I have not been taught how eating fellow citizens was a virtue. Lumber up. Morning. Oh. Here is a quick way to do it. I'll do it for you. Bang you out love. Oh reminder. Whose neck bell rang me music two fields away. Oh morning. At No. And night now you laugh with a bunch of Oh but he'll handle you right. Yeah I'll discover a prophet in your ribs. You know Clave Well nothing left but in my head the clang clang of that bell. Any action as a kind of violence and in a phrase a Saturday the weight is on your own conscience. In another forum I am most aware
of the violence one must go to tradition in this case a matter of family tradition. If one is to be fatal or set himself one pays a price for such freedom. The note below there was an old stump of an old tree standing all naked of Bach and brown and ten feet tall. In the wrong place for our summer pleasure. I pushed it over I was glad to see it fall let it lie there in the high grass till it rotted the roots broke when I rocked it where it stood. The trunk split and the shell and half round pieces opened and let fall something that had been wanted but that would be as in a date as have a business not safe place. Suddenly outraged by anything. Nothing is left to an old man but his anger and I had harried death that needs
no Irene. The stump gun we could look further and green up it was Tojo long days before my wand was well that was all we got and we had to spoil the honey for sorrow and the novio past where the tree fell. But Mr. Holmes thought at least some of these responsibilities a small part of daily life even routine. Yes and in such cases they do become a kind of habit. I've dealt with one situation of this sort in the light of a name and a point of contact I can manage and multiplicity. There are magazines for a streamlined what junior female Deans button collectors east coast agents for fire and fire insurance. Probably the Vice-President's of screw shank nail companies. They're out though who needs to be reminded of them. The catalogs
Mynah delivered by George. Good mail carrier probably advisory editor of a magazine for junior carriers and money a port town fishing tackle catalogs book catalogs sportswear catalogs ships for defenders and the children and wives of Dhia under the duck comes under socks socks truck cards and belt holders for them. Judge thanks I have the most interesting mail in the whole street. Suppose I do not go in. The model railroad catalogs in color but briefly speak of the British magazines that lowered my coffee table of the absent country life for one hundred and eight acres a hundred Rome. Good shooting stables etc.. Or at the pre and post carnation pictures in the everlastingly Brown London Illustrated know and the morning papers and the weekly magazines and the evening papers
are less specialization. Wonderful and buyable is drainage. I ask you to listen to the noise at the disposal of far less. Every day I throw away five times as much as comes into the house. But I'm still in charge of throwing it away. I manage multiplicity the past was not too much. Why should the present overwhelm me. Today Judge brought a Cadillac from my favorite Hyde West dog. I bought it in the trundle for the ash bound to roll up the catalogs to tie at all magazines and the bill for the come up. I see what you mean but how do you ever dealt with any figure who seems to be really the master of the actions and responsibilities which his own freedom involves. Yes I have and it was curiously enough an academic Besson who was behind a point with which I should like to conclude the cultivator.
He could have run a Brookside mill a bun a building three armed men walking a 20 foot sump wheel that doubles up but drunks in power up to ten to one shaft to toe from country woods to what a wooden Milos bow Dowell are healthy and happy there have been a warden of such work and wood and sound of himself. Hauling the nearby gotten. He could have raised apples leaped up ladders in a mist of spray cursing the last boxing up to save washing apples many enemies away he dead to prove that can be proved but his funding runs in and over and out from book to book to Apple and back again. Tell to discover Emerson among the borrowed ones. Tell people apart from Tres is a leaf Dapple in
New England sunlight. Names names of his lesson was flickering in fields of pages of chairs in classrooms little by little of the orchard yields though the good shoulder lain hungry for green. He sees ground pine springing up and of what smells it. Smiles makes mystic Melville plain sits dries up by Franklin on fence rails and wonders what century he's in. He pounds in a handy homemade pegs to hone down Alija trams and bench and not one to set up the famous flags. He has an explorer. A five dimension but needs more north for his own legs. I think he's the happiest man I know and he doesn't. I measure myself by him at distance as worse and better doe. He wouldn't believe that he Mike's time for anyone. Why strides it so now in his
helmet and yes he shouts the hill joy from a ridge in Maine buried in blue beret that tax a bank where a man's brush and bushes on his arm. It is his LeVay not the states upon his own bones he pays and glad to hear him wake up the standing timber. Joking or drawling his thought oh ah God. Hemo see Mills Lagann Lumba lecturing to build citizen had their items read and spring was read in some of the grain and the why don't we all pushes when the stream is full. He could have run a Brookside minnow and dead his lady that has grain and the grain of wood. Thank you very much Mr. Holmes. This program presented by the Literary Society of the University of Massachusetts was produced by the National Association of educational broadcasters under a grant from the Educational
Series
New England anthology
Episode
Robert Hillyer and John Holmes
Producing Organization
University of Massachusetts
Contributing Organization
University of Maryland (College Park, Maryland)
AAPB ID
cpb-aacip/500-0v89m58v
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Description
Episode Description
This program focuses on the poetry of Robert Hillyer and John Holmes.
Series Description
A series featuring New England poets who read and discuss their own works.
Broadcast Date
1955-04-10
Topics
Literature
Subjects
New England--Poetry.
Media type
Sound
Duration
00:29:30
Embed Code
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Credits
Host: Kohler, Stanley
Narrator: Niedeck, Arthur
Performer: Hillyer, Robert, 1895-1961
Performer: Holmes, John, 1904-1962
Producing Organization: University of Massachusetts
AAPB Contributor Holdings
University of Maryland
Identifier: 55-9-4 (National Association of Educational Broadcasters)
Format: 1/4 inch audio tape
Duration: 00:29:15
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Citations
Chicago: “New England anthology; Robert Hillyer and John Holmes,” 1955-04-10, University of Maryland, American Archive of Public Broadcasting (GBH and the Library of Congress), Boston, MA and Washington, DC, accessed October 5, 2022, http://americanarchive.org/catalog/cpb-aacip-500-0v89m58v.
MLA: “New England anthology; Robert Hillyer and John Holmes.” 1955-04-10. University of Maryland, American Archive of Public Broadcasting (GBH and the Library of Congress), Boston, MA and Washington, DC. Web. October 5, 2022. <http://americanarchive.org/catalog/cpb-aacip-500-0v89m58v>.
APA: New England anthology; Robert Hillyer and John Holmes. Boston, MA: University of Maryland, American Archive of Public Broadcasting (GBH and the Library of Congress), Boston, MA and Washington, DC. Retrieved from http://americanarchive.org/catalog/cpb-aacip-500-0v89m58v