A Poet's Team
A Poet Passes. By D. L. Kelleher. (Been. is.) Mn. KELLEHER begins his title poem with the lines, " I saw him driving last night, A team of horses," and after one has read every poem—as one will—in this strangely uneven little collection, the force of the metaphor when applied to the author himself and his control over words becomes evident. Mr. Kelleher drives a lively team—so - lively, indeed, that it occasionally gets right out of hand—and his ' swinging rhythms reveal a passion for verse, an urge for the poetic expression of things experienced, that does actually suggest the thunder of flying hoofs and the -Passage of wheels. Here is a poet who cannot help himself—he will write poetry whatever happens and whether the world likes it or not :— " I have ploughed the world all over, So none now will find trace of their lovers Though listen ! out there
In the sweet air, Ophelia singing to assuage her pain— There is no solace left her but a song."
It is perhaps unfair to quote what is, after all, only a fragment of a fine and moving poem : but here, surely, is something of the poet's secret, and it is a secret which it is worth the while of everyone to probe. Mr. Kelleher's name is new to us, but we shall watch his progress with interest and hope. There
• are flashes of inspiration in A Poet Passes, and there are also
• touches of a sardonic humour which are rare enough to be memorable. Perhaps in his next book Mr. Kelleher will have added to these the mellower notes of song.