The sun., 1918-09-08
Apollo Must sim Pay Admetus.


JOYCE NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS. man, lee
turer, poet-lnvite attention again to
the much mooted subject of poetry
and livelihood. Poets, like ladies
must live. And the world has not
changed notably since STEVENSON
pointed out. with hint of complaint
that APOLLO Is expected to pay AID
METus. Kings, presidents and par.
liaments still Onlt to provide ade'
quate pensions or annuitles for poets
and the old days Of the wealthy pa
, tron are gone forever, with their at
tendant evils Of subsidy, but also
with their one glorious good of GER
tain subsistence.
KILMER's career. In Its general as
poets, comedies closely with that of
other poets Of his time and country.
Indeed, it may be taken ms typical.
His interests were many, his activl-
ties varied. But 1t Is impossible to
escape the feeling that poetry was,
with him, the primary concern. The
others, book reviewing, interviewing,
lecturing, were by way of paying
ADMETUs. These We're his grasplngs
for 1.-The damn guinea" which was to
provide a livelihood and little lei
sure for the pursuit Of poetry. How
little leisure was left. how little ever
abldes in the life of an active jour-
naAst, those who have tried it will
know. We ask that our poets, above
all people, should be wise. But we
are told that Wisdom comes with
leisure and books and children about
her knee. The young poet Of to-day
has scant enough Of the first; the
second he has no change to enjoy,
and the children are apt to repre-
sent so many mouths to be fed.
Since the old days Of pensions and
patrons the poet has had to pay the
world in its own coin, and take his
poetry when he might The alterna-
tive Is starvation. On the whole. he
has borne it gayly enough. He has
not asked to be thought of as perse
cuted beyond other men. What he
most desires to give the world the
world Is in no mood to pay for with
large figures. Very well he will give
the world what 1t will pay for, and
when 1t has paid little and the days
work is done he will return to the
dear desplsed, and greet the paper
as the groom his bride" And mind
you, he will do this with no bitter
ness, grateful enough If two hours
or three are spared him from the
guinea chase.
when l have chopped my wood
and built my fire." says THoREAU,
Il tremble to think that the next
question my conscience will ask me
will be: What did you do while you
We're warmT" The poet is in no
such debate with his conscience He
knows what he will do when he is
warm. He has known all the while
he was chopping. And if the chop
ping lasted eight hours and the
warmth but two, that two was still
the whole aim and reason, the be-
ginning and the end. 1t should not
be necessary to point out that this
condition is present with the poet to
a greater degree aud more generally
than with the story writer, the nov
elist, the essayist. Their product the
world buys in greater quantities and
at higher rate.
There is nothing in all this to make
us pity the lot of the poet. He him
self would scorn the sentiment. He
Is apt to consider himself pretty well
favored. Those two hours are more
golden than another mans eight. But
we may very properly ask. What Is
the effect Of this rather desperate mr.
rangement on the poetry itself? How
will 1t fare with an art thus crowded
into the spare room, and practised
only during what breathless moments
the devotee can escape from the
wood pile?
There are certain wiseacres who
will maintain that this is the best
possible arrangement. The poet should
stand shoulder to shoulder with his
fellows; he should do their work and
speak their language. Else he is
apt to become n one sided aesthetic,
unfit to speak to his race, and, what
is worse, incapacitated for living the
life of man In mans world. So
1t goes, Let him meet the world on
its own terms. His just deserts" is
the comment on such an instance
as FRANCIS THOMPSON, starving on
the streets Of London, sleeping in
public parks, racked by agues and
fevers, and out Of that life sending
1.-THE Hound of Heaven"-a poem that
will be read long after Mr.. Prosper
Gus Wiseacre is forgotten by that
world which he met on its own terms.
THOMPSON and the others who make
up the ragged company of the starry
Ing poet legend never learned-or
scorned to learn-the adjustment be-
tween the wood pile and Parnassus.
And for this, Mr.. Prosperous Wise
acre contends, the elders" got their
just deserts. The answer Is of course