34
FRENCH SCHOOL OF POESY, SYNTHESE
En versant ces fleurs dans ce vin
J’ai pense au veau marin.
WESTERN SCHOOL OF POESY, SYNTHESE
Say, bo! I heard about that fourty-niner.
Say, Bo! I’ve heard erbout that Perarie Schooner!
Say, Bo! !
ABEL SANDERS
SUPPRESSED PASSAGE
(Words in italics removed from Ezra Pound’s article in Literary Review of
New York Evening Post:)
The “literary and artistic life” of London having dwindled,
consisting, that is, in waiting for Mr. Wyndham Lewis’ next
drawing and Mr. Eliot’s next (we believe his twenty-sixth)
poem—or this equation of London containing a so negligible
amount of exaggeration—the bath of Paris is perhaps unduly
pleasant; pleasant, at least, as a matinal cleanliness, a hot tub
after a fog, and a clean air with a recent vestige of rain.
BOLL WEEVIL
The ideer that you have to become more like a boll weevil in
order to be a good biollergist, distresses me.
Yours eeturnilly,
ABEL SANDERS
(vide Robert Morss Lovett, in the Dial for Jan. IQ22 (old
style) page 80.)
ANTI-CLIMAX
Dear L. R. My first hunch was right. Szymanowski is the
most considerable musical apparition which has arisen in
twenty years. His symphony bears out my contention. He is, I
think, a composer of the very first rank. Beat some drums for
him.—BURTON RASCOE.