Tag Archives: American Poetry

BOOKS: “The Suppressed Poems of Ernest Hemingway”

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The suppressed poemsThe suppressed poems by Ernest Hemingway
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Available online – Public Domain

I read this book because my curiosity was piqued by a reference to poems Hemingway published in Der Querschnitt, a reference that was made in a biography of Hemingway I’ve been reading recently (Forty-Three Ways of Looking at Hemingway by Jeffrey Meyers.) Five of the seventeen poems in the book are from Der Querschnitt. (Ten of the poems were published in a book entitled Three Stories and Ten Poems and a couple are odds and ends.)

The Der Quershnitt pieces are bawdy by 1920’s standards, though not particularly for today. The other poems can be a bit intense, dealing in subjects like death in war (Champs D’Honneur,) suicide (Montparnasse, and a curse upon literary critics (Valentine,) but tend to be a bit more refined (excepting Valentine. which may be the least elevated of the collected poems.)

The poems include a mix of lyric, free verse, and prose poem, though all are fairly short (the longest, The Soul of Spain, fits in three pages.)

My favorite was a short lyric poem entitled The Age Demanded, which considers the paradox of the 1920’s as a progressive age, restrained. I also found T. Roosevelt to be fascinating because in the act of critiquing Teddy Roosevelt, Hemingway (wittingly or not) gives us a bit of autobiography. (i.e.“And all the legends that he started in his life // Live on and prosper, // Unhampered now by his existence.”)

I give Hemingway more credit for saying interesting things by virtue of being bold than for saying anything in a particularly interesting way, but it’s enough to make these poems worth reading.

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“Upon the Road of My Life” by Stephen Crane [w/ Audio]

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Upon the road of my life,
  Passed me many fair creatures,
  Clothed all in white, and radiant.
 To one, finally, I made speech:
   “Who art thou?”
 But she, like the others,
   Kept cowled her face,
   And answered in haste, anxiously,
   “I am good deed, forsooth;
   You have often seen me.”
 “Not uncowled,” I made reply.
   And with rash and strong hand,
   Though she resisted,
   I drew away the veil
   And gazed at the features of vanity.
 She, shamefaced, went on;
   And after I had mused a time,
 I said of myself,
   “Fool!”

“Changed” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow [w/ Audio]

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From the outskirts of the town
  Where of old the mile-stone stood,
Now a stranger, looking down
I behold the shadowy crown
  Of the dark and haunted wood. 

Is it changed, or am I changed?
  Ah! the oaks are fresh and green,
But the friends with whom I ranged
Through their thickets are estranged
  By the years that intervene. 

Bright as ever flows the sea,
  Bright as ever shines the sun,
But alas! they seem to me
Not the sun that used to be,
  Not the tides that used to run.

“A Decade” by Amy Lowell [w/ Audio]

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When you came, you were like red wine and honey,
 And the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness.
 Now you are like morning bread,
 Smooth and pleasant.
 I hardly taste you at all for I know your savour,
 But I am completely nourished.

“So set its Sun in Thee” (808) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]

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So set its Sun in Thee
   What Day be dark to me —
 What Distance — far —
   So I the Ships may see
 That touch — how seldomly —
   Thy Shore?

“It might be lonlier” (405) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]

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It might be lonelier
   Without the Loneliness —
 I'm so accustomed to my Fate —
   Perhaps the Other — Peace —

Would interrupt the Dark —
   And crowd the little Room —
 Too scant — by Cubits — to contain
   The Sacrament — of Him —

I am not used to Hope —
   It might intrude upon —
 Its sweet parade — blaspheme the place —
   Ordained to Suffering —

It might be easier
   To fail — with Land in Sight —
 Than gain — My Blue Peninsula —
   To perish — of Delight —

“A face devoid of love or grace” (1711) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]

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A face devoid of love or grace,
   A hateful, hard, successful face,
   A face with which a stone
 Would feel as thoroughly at ease
   As were they old acquaintances —
   First time together thrown.

“His steady sails he never furls” by Henry David Thoreau [w/ Audio]

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His steady sails he never furls
   At any time o' year,
 And perching now on Winter's curls,
   He whistles in his ear

“Fable” by Ralph Waldo Emerson [w/ Audio]

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The mountain and the squirrel  
  Had a quarrel;  
 And the former called the latter ‘Little Prig.’
 Bun replied,  
 ‘You are doubtless very big;         
  But all sorts of things and weather  
  Must be taken in together,  
  To make up a year  
  And a sphere.  
 And I think it no disgrace  
  To occupy my place.  
 If I'm not so large as you,  
  You are not so small as I,  
  And not half so spry.  
 I'll not deny you make  
  A very pretty squirrel track;  
  Talents differ; all is well and wisely put;  
 If I cannot carry forests on my back,  
  Neither can you crack a nut.’

“Indian River” by Wallace Stevens [w/ Audio]

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The trade-wind jingles the rings in the nets around the racks
   by the docks on Indian River.
 It is the same jingle of the water among the roots under the
   banks of the palmettoes,
 It is the same jingle of the red-bird breasting the orange-trees
   out of the cedars
 Yet there is no spring in Florida, neither in boskage perdu, nor
   on the nunnery beaches.