In 1936, 20-year-old Edward Weismiller became the youngest poet to win the prestigious Yale Series of Younger Poets prize. In this collection of poems, his youthful lyricism has given way to plainness of speech - even spareness. These poems are honest and unflinching, always striking in their prosody. They may remind some readers of Yeats, for they convey nobility in the face of old age, infirmity and disappointment. Weismiller sings powerfully about a world of loss, but he is never grim or despairing. The poet in old age remains hopeful, open to possibility, and always aware of beauty in the smallest places.
What a wonderful surprise, wonderful collection. I must admit my ignorance-I had never heard of Edwar Weismiller, more to my loss. There are so many good poets wriiting. Weismiller died in 2010 and this seems to be his last pubished collection with only 2 others long out of print. Ted Kooser thught so highly of him and listed this poem as exemplery:
Sea Horse
You might think it would leap the waves in a white fire of foam racing, eyes mad with what might be delight:
a runaway, or loosed from a god’s team, galloping in its vast pasture. But this one was the size of a brooch, thin, and red-gold, and still.
The children had sent for it from the Atlantic. It arrived by air in a pouch of seawater containing all it needed to sustain life as it crossed the continent.
Following instructions we made it a small, nourishing ocean in which it anchored itself upright to a strand of seaweed, and, staring jewel-eyed
at nothing, slowly faded white and died.
Such poignancy without bathos, craft without pretension, simple language without prosaism.
I wish I had met Weismiller's poetry before. I wish he had written more. I heartily recommend this collection.