An Egg for Easter
A prize of £5 was offered for the best poem on Easter, in the manner of Herbert and shaped like an Easter egg.
Fittsr of all, congratulations to nearly all competitors on the shapes of their poems. I wish I could reproduce in facsimile the lettering and layout of Kenneth S. Kitchin's 'Phoenix Egg,' which was a visual work of art as well as a good poem.
I began by discarding about a quarter of the entries as being too much concerned with the beauties of nature in spring to sug- gest a Jacobean poet other than Vaughan. Of the remainder a proportion tended to fall into two groups : those which were so ingenious as to lose the simple sincerity of Herbert, and those which were too straight- forward and laCking in conceits.
There remained a large number of alpha entries, each with a speoial excellence; for example : a religious earnestness and humility worthy of Herbert: G. A. M., J. B. and D. L. L. Clarke; a neat conceit : Margaret Bishop and Stephanie Grifford; unity of form enhanced by the rhyme- scheme : J. Aitken; Jacobean vocabulary and imagery: Douglas Hawson, R. P. C. Mutter, M. C. Clayton and I. W. Huke.
R. Kennard Davis, A. W. Dicker and Mary Atherton are specially commended both for their use of direct speech in the manner of Herbert and especially for not only mastering the exacting form but even making it a medium for a climax 'witty' in the seventeenth-century sense of the word.
After regretfully dismissing Kathleen Milne's beautiful little poem as being diamond-shaped rather than ovoid, I award the prizes as follows : £2 10s. to J. D. K. Lloyd (witty ambivalence and simple per- fection of form); £1 10s. to P. M. (who speaks in the very accents of Herbert), and £1 to Mary Holtby for a pleasing poem with all the qualities which one was look- ing for, including an arresting opening and a significant climax. Though outside the terms of the competi- tion, I hope the Editor will have room to print the letter which accompanied Geoffrey Parks's entry : No scholar I, I know not Herbert's 'Wings,' My miserable Muse untutored sings, And if, an egg-head, I have not encroached On Herbert's style, at least my egg's not
poached!
I hope that, lacking learning's mottled marks, The thing's not addled! Yours, Sir, Geoffrey Parks.
PRIZES
(i. D. K. LLOYD) This 0, enclosed around, smoothe, with no entrance found, yet soone with newest life to overflow! So has Thy tombe, by Pilate sealed, To us that third day Life revealed. 0 grant that 1, some morning bright, My earthly Siren then broke, May wear in White, Thy Yoke.
(P. M.)
See 0 Lord, For Thee A litel hoard, A germ of life to be In frail case stored. I give it Thee and wait; Thy love shall incubate And make it good in ev'ry parte That from the shell may dame My fledgling soul, but not so hie That in • her newer ecstasie She shall not thence descry The secret place below Where homing she may go From threat'ning sky And sink and rest. I mean, 0 Lord, 'tis I Who seek my nest Upon Thy Breast
Be busie heart To crack and break The shell of sin, 0 all Thy unfledg'd wit employ To burst apart that prison Today Love shows thee how Who for thy own poore sake Knocks on the dusty wall Of dying death : know thou His hony sweets of joy Bear then thy part Outbreak, awake Thou too art risen
COMMENDED (MEGAN) , How tart Were m y words, 'Does confectionary art Debase the eggs of birds Symbol of souls' fresh start?' My Risen Lord replied, 'My friend, These children joy in sweeter things, To celebrate my new and glorious end. The sweetmeats which each infant brings Should with your offerings easy blend. These gifts are good and dear to me, They give them all so joyously- So be it thus with thee,' I proffer my humility, Sweet Lord.
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