SPECTATOR COMPETITION No. 129 Report by R. Kennard Davis A

prize of £5 was offered for a poem entitled " Disillusionment," based on and including the following lines from Wordsworth's poem :- She was a phantom of delight When first she gle.amed upon my sight.

I saw her upon nearer view A spirit, yet a woman too And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine.

Perhaps, as one competitor complained, it was sacrilege ; but the sequence, " Phantom---.Womari—Machine " suggests that Words- worth's subconscious may have been playing tricks with him, and it gave misogynists a chance to show their paces. Curiously enough, the misogynistic game was played most zestfully by the women.

The word " machine " inspired a number of entrants to make their heroine a car, several of them very effectively. For others, " she " was a sewing-machine, a cook, a " daily," a typist, a fraudulent medium, a spaniel aftd a ship. This list indicates- the variety of the work with which I had to cope. I started with a preference for those who 'should (a) preserve something of Words- worth's manner and (b) attach some meaning to the description of woman as a machine (talking-machine ? flirting-machine ? gold- digging-machine ?) • but few contrived to do either of these things effectively. The best poems, technically, were those which seemed to me to evade, in one way or another, what I regarded as the main point of the competition.

" Disillusionment " was firmly indicated in many entries : " And now I see with eye serene

She is not what she might have been ; Indeed, I wonder why the fuss.

Her face would stop an omnibus, Would halt (mechanic ly I mean), The very pulse of the machine.' (J. P. MULLARKY) " Cold, calculating, selfish, grim, Intent to gratify each whim, With someone else to pay the bills.

—Let me go dance with daffodils ! "

(J. A. C. MORRISON)

" A creature not too bright (I.Q.

Reputed to be 82) An O.S. woman, nobly planned With giant foot and ham-like hand !

The wraith has put on flesh, you see, And oh, the difference to me ! "

(N. HODGSON) I do not feel that any one competitor stands out from, the rest. In these circumstances, I recommend that the . prize be divided between five : C. J. Richards, who was the best of those who made a direct attempt; D. L. L. Clarke, who made an ingenious compilation of lines from Wordsworth ; Miss M. E. Liddall, who produced some excellent verse but failed to drive home the " machine " point ; P. M. for her witty sewing-machine poem, and H. A. C. Evans, who was slightly the best of the motorists (though there is unfortunately no room for his entry).

Commendations to Walter Percival, Rev. Walter Angus, Rev. A. Whigham Price (whom I thank for his personal message- !), Guy Innes, Frances Collingwood, W. D. Gilmour, Nan Wishart, M.R., M.S., T. W. Edwards, Guy Kendall, and Oswald Clarke.

PRIZES (C. J. RICHARDS)

She was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight ; A rainbow spirit, all a-glow With magic beauty, pure as snow ; And as she held me with her eyes, I thought I entered Paradise. I saw her upon nearer view, A spirit, yet a woman too ! Such beauty, that had won my heart,

Owed less to nature than to art '

• That silver tongue, that manner kind

Veil'd yet the mystery of her mind. And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine ; Serene, because at last I know What drives this human dynamo— Pride, jealousy, suspicion, guile, The tarnish 'neath a tinsel smile.

• (D. L L CLARKE)

She was a phantom of delight

When first she gleamed upon my sight. I saw her upon nearer view A spirit, yet a woman too.

Can this be she who hither came

In secret like a smothered flame ?

For if a vestige of those gleams

Survive, 'twas only in my dreams.

The memory of what has been, To dream-light clear while yet unseen, Was frozen at its marvellous source : No motion has she now, no force. And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine ; I see thee glittering from afar Not quite so fair as many are, Thou unassuming commonplace Of nature with that homely face !

(M. E. LIDDALL)

She was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight. Gliding along the sunlit street With rhythmic round of pedalling feet. The lengthening shadows seemed to lie Spellbound as hers went softly by. And, standing on the pavement's edge, Heaven warned me it were sacrilege To cast a thought, howe'er divine, On beauty that could ne'er be mine.

I saw her upon nearer view A spirit, yet a woman too !

One of the unrequited band Of housewives in a hungry land.

And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine.

Yet how could she have roused in me Such wondrous hope of things to be ?

(P. M.) She was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight A "wonder and a wild desire" Above my purchase—even higher ;—(or hire?) The shining substance of a dream, So like a fairy did she seem. (or seam?) I saw her upon nearer view, A spirit, yet a woman too, That Love's light pressure will obey And hums about her work all day.

" Angelic Singer " then I said " Thou hast my heart upon a thread- " I would thy inmost secret know And call thee mine, and make thee so (or sew?)" And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine, And could enjoy her charms tonight —But 0 this tension is not right 1