The Jig Of Forslin

The first of a planned two-volume biography, Conrad Aiken: Poet of White Horse Vale follows Aiken's early life from his birth in 1889 to 1925 when he stood on the threshold of both nervous breakdown and poetic success. It was then that Aiken began to face his paradoxically idyllic and tragic Savannah childhood and to confront the events of February 27, 1901. On that day, the eleven-year-old Aiken heard gunshots punctuate a nightlong argument between his mother and father. Running into the next room, he discovered his mother murdered and his father dead by suicide. Sounding the deep reverberations of those events in Aiken's mind, Edward Butscher follows the poet's life and work as he sought to regain, in some permanent form, the idyll he had lost as a child. Butscher tells of Aiken's determined efforts to gain recognition for his verse in the fevered cultural circuits of the early twentieth century—from his friendship, begun at Harvard, with T. S. Eliot, through frustrating excursions into the literary society of England and repeated trips on the poetic “trade route” from his home in Boston to Chicago and New York, to often sharp encounters with such powerful cultural barons as Ezra Pound, Amy Lowell, and Harriet Monroe. Hoping to build his reputation on a series of detached poetic “symphonies,” to keep depression from boiling over into madness and suicide, Aiken skirted the border of his deepest memories and fears—a border he would cross in the works that lay ahead.

This work has been selected by scholars as being culturally important, and is part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it. This work was reproduced from the original artifact, and remains as true to the original work as possible. Therefore, you will see the original copyright references, library stamps (as most of these works have been housed in our most important libraries around the world), and other notations in the work.This work is in the public domain in the United States of America, and possibly other nations. Within the United States, you may freely copy and distribute this work, as no entity (individual or corporate) has a copyright on the body of the work.As a reproduction of a historical artifact, this work may contain missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. Scholars believe, and we concur, that this work is important enough to be preserved, reproduced, and made generally available to the public. We appreciate your support of the preservation process, and thank you for being an important part of keeping this knowledge alive and relevant.

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1916 edition. Excerpt: ... And laughter of virgins; I blew the light, And followed her, heedless of the ending, Into the carnival of that night. Make haste, beloved! the night passes, The day breaks, the cock crows, Mist slinks away in the sunlight, And the thin blood drips from the rose. Black stallions rushed us through the air, Their hooves upon the wind struck fire; Rivers, and hills, and a moonlit spire Glided beneath us, and then a flare Of gusty torches beckoned us down To a palace-gate in a darkened town. She took my hand and led me in Through walls of basalt and walls of jade, And I wondered, to hear a violin Sweetly within that marble played. I heard it sing, a wandering tone, Imprisoned forever in that deep stone. And then upon a coach we lay. And heard invisible spirits play A ghostly music; the candles muttered, Rose-leaves trembled upon the floor, Lay still, or rose on the air and fluttered; And while the moon went dwindling down Poisoning with black web the skies, She narrowed her eyelids, and fixed her eyes, Fiercely upon me; and searched me so With speeding fire in every shred That I, consumed with a witching glow, Knew scarcely if I were alive or dead: But lay upon her breast, and kissed The deep red mouth, and drank the breath, And heard it gasping, how it hissed To mimic the ecstasy of death. Above us in a censer burning Was dust of lotos-flowers, and there Ghosts of smoke were ever turning, And gliding along the sleepy air, And reaching hands, and showing faces, Or coiling slowly like blue snakes, To charm us moveless in our places... But then she softly raised her head And smiled through brooding eyes, and said 'O lover, I have seen you twice. You changed my veins to veins of ice. The first time, it was Easter Eve, --By the church door you..

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Excerpt from The Jig of Forslin: A Symphony It has often been said that a book which needs an explanatory preface is a book which has not entirely succeeded. In the present instance, however, whether that is true or not, there are other complications: and for that reason I am glad to run the risk of being told that the book is a failure. These complications arise from the fact that The Jig of Forslin is somewhat new both in method and in structure. It does not conveniently fit in any category, and is therefore liable, like all such works, to be condemned for not being something it was never intended to be. The critics who like to say 'this man is a realist' or 'this man is a romanticist, ' or in some such way to tag an author once and for all, will here find it difficult. For my intention has been to employ all methods, attitudes, slants, each in its proper place, as a necessary and vital part of any such study as this. Consequently, it is possible to pick out portions of this poem to exemplify almost any poetic method or tone. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.

This work has been selected by scholars as being culturally important, and is part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it. This work was reproduced from the original artifact, and remains as true to the original work as possible. Therefore, you will see the original copyright references, library stamps (as most of these works have been housed in our most important libraries around the world), and other notations in the work. This work is in the public domain in the United States of America, and possibly other nations. Within the United States, you may freely copy and distribute this work, as no entity (individual or corporate) has a copyright on the body of the work. As a reproduction of a historical artifact, this work may contain missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. Scholars believe, and we concur, that this work is important enough to be preserved, reproduced, and made generally available to the public. We appreciate your support of the preservation process, and thank you for being an important part of keeping this knowledge alive and relevant.