OF N.Z. POETS

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 571, 25 January 1929, Page 14

OF N.Z. POETS

SOME NOTES AND COMMENTS NO. 8 MRS. MONA TRACY industrious, and richly endowed with rare imaginative faculty, Mrs. Tracy has laboured tirelessly Cor many years in. the cause of New Zealand’s infant literature, and although still young, she is able to survey with justifiable complacency the contribution she has already made to the little store. Possessing: intimate knowledge of Maori lore and history, she has been able to set a New Zealand stamp on all her writing. She loved the country in childhood, and although she has travelled from home at times, she ha 3 striven successfully to keep faith with her original inspiration. The result now' is that she takes her place as a leader of the younger generation of Dominion writers. Mrs. Tracy has written adventure stories of quality, and her delightful essays are known to readers of the Dominion Press; but it is the poet that is being considered now. Multi-gifted, she has accomplished as much in verse as in prose, and the verse in fact gives a better key to her original personality. In the first place, she is acutely sensitive, and delicacy of feeling combined with artistic sensibility is apparent in all her poetry. It enables her to endow with convincing similitude of truth imaginary situations, of minor or major importance. She has, too, a fine musical sense, and all her poetry sings. Of course, this is no more than saying that, she is a poet, but unfortunately many verse experimenters of to-day have made the sudden discovery that music is not essential in poetry. Bizarre effect is the aim of many, and the tender beauties of olden melodies are gone; but Mrs. Tracy has not broken faith. Considered as a whole, her literary work is remarkable because of its variety. She finds inspiration in the’ oddest of sources, and that is another reason for the alluring quality of her verse. She has no allegiance to definite themes, and is just as likely to ne inspired by the sight of rotting ships as a Maori legend. "Whatever she writes is New Zealand work. There might be no allusions to the bush, not even a Maori name; but still the inspiration in her own country cannot be mistaken. One of her finest poems, and indeed, one of the finest poems written in New' Zealand during the past 10 years, is “Akaroa.” It is too long to quote in full, but portions of it v:ill tell of its quality. The complete poem may be read in the last addition of “A Treasury of New Zealand Verse.” At dusk in Akaroa town, When embered sunset smoulders down , And softly wreathes the evening mist In whorls of tender ' amethyst, The ait' is charmed with old-world spell tjf chanting bird and chiming beilj And garden plots are redolent, tjf poignant, unforgotten scent , Where gilly-flower and fleur de lys Bloom beneath the cabbage tree, And crimson Vata strives to choke With amorous arms the hoary oak And jonquil mocks the kowhai's gold — Ah, sweet it is .. . so young, so old! When from the evening s grey cocoon Comes glimmering forth the moth-like moon, And winds upon the brooding trees Htrum soft, nocturnal symphonies , If kindly ghosts move up and down In tranquil Akaroa town; If voyageurs from storied France Bestride the streets of old romance. If laughing lads and girls come yet To dance a happy minuet; If grandpere muses still upon The fortunes of Napoleon, And grand’mere, b?/ the walnut tree Hits dreaming on her rotary. So the poet’s reverie goes on with unflagging beauty and simplicity. Some of the same imaginative quality is shown in ‘‘The Coal Hulks,” which ends: Flow out. O tide, O darkling tide of night! Lap them about with kisses as you go Slow, slow; O pitying stars , rain tears of tender light, A iid peaceful moon, in benediction glow, And gently flow. O tide compassionate , Along the line of sea and sky, Where, dolorous and desolate, The melancholy coal-hulks lie. “The Roads,” a true poem of New' Zealand, tells of other things’ The plains roads are long roads, and placidly they go By quiet copse and golden grain toward the shining snow; 1 love their tranquil beauty—but dearer, far , to me, Are the little northern roads that run for miles beside the sea. The brown roads, the bush roads, that lure the feet to tread. That point with slender fingers the turn that lies ahead : With here a hill and there a creek, and always pageantry Of dancing sun and shadow on the blue . Homeric sea. The brown roads, the hill roads, are calling me again To wand by the scented shrub all wet with misty rain : And though upon the plains I bide, r,iy v a prom heart goes free .1 nd runs on little northern roads far miles beside the sea. There is a poignant story told in j “The Only Son”; He on one side the hearth And I on the other; Seldom we spolce, little ice looked. I knitted, he read; (As plain folk and lowly'). The cloek ticked, the fire danced And the day died slowly. And ours was the tragedy And the pitiful story Of an only son icho had paid The price of a nation's glory Did he read my thought And the wild heart-hunger Of the other sons I might have borne. ; When the earth was youngerl Did I read his thought 1 , flt leapt up flaming!) That his was the stricken man’s regret . i j His the bitter blaming? ' I He on one side the hearth. And I on the other; Fearful to speak, dreading to look, j ( Lest we see one another. This is a little of the poetry of \

Mona Tracy, and those -who are interested in the literature of New Zealand must look to the day when the

beauty that is hidden away in scrapbooks and newspaper files will have permanent home between the covers of a book. lAN DONNELLY. NOTE Much of Mrs. Tracy’s poetry and prose has been published in The Sun.