Reflections on the Art of My Poetry 93

restait qu’une chance de lui poser toutes Reflections on the les questions pertinentes sur son art, il a mené une entrevue téléphonique avec M. Art of My Poetry White, et a fait transcrire le contenu de leurs échanges. Le dialogue suivant est ROGER WHITE (1929–1993) le fruit de l’objectif initial de M. Hatcher et de la volonté de M. White, malgré son Abstract état de santé défaillant, de participer à In 1991, well-known Bahá’í poet Roger une conversation extrêmement franche White retired from his work at the Bahá’í et révélatrice. Bien qu’une partie de leur World Centre because he was dying of discussion fasse appel à une terminologie cancer. John Hatcher had always intend- bahá’íe, leur échange laisse entrevoir ed to write a piece on Roger’s poetry, and la pensée d’un poète talentueux et des suddenly aware of the brief chance he had obstacles qu’il a dû surmonter, comme bien to pose all the relevant questions to Rog- d’autres artistes bahá’ís, pour s’efforcer de er about his art, Hatcher talked to Roger répondre à l’exhortation de Bahá’u’lláh on the phone, recorded his responses on selon laquelle l’art peut le mieux servir tape, and had the results of that Q&A l’humanité lorsqu’il élève et édifie l’âme et transcribed. The following dialogue is sa réceptivité spirituelle. Il ne fait aucun the result of Hatcher’s original objec- doute que la poésie de Roger White a su tive and Roger’s willingness, despite his atteindre ce but, et qu’elle continuera si failing health, to participate in creating bien de le faire dans l’avenir. what is a remarkably frank and revealing conversation. While some of the discus- Resumen sion involves Bahá’í terms, it provides a En 1991, el conocido poeta bahá’í Roger glimpse into the mind of a gifted poet and White se retiró de su trabajo en el Centro the struggles that he, like so many other Mundial Bahá’í porque se estaba murien- Bahá’í artists, encountered in trying to re- do de cáncer. John Hatcher siempre había spond to the exhortation from Bahá’u’lláh tenido la intención de escribir una pieza that art best serves humanity when it ele- sobre la poesía de Roger. Repentinamente vates and edifies the soul and its spiritual consciente de la oportunidad breve que receptivity. Surely Roger’s poetry accom- tenía para plantearle a White todas las pre- plished that objective for many Bahá’ís, guntas relevantes sobre su arte, Hatcher and doubtless it will continue to do so well lo entrevistó por teléfono y transcribió la into the future. grabación de ese intercambio. El siguiente diálogo es el resultado del objetivo origi- Resumé nal de Hatcher y la disposición de White, En 1991, le poète bahá’í bien connu Roger a pesar de su delicado estado de salud, de White a mis fin à son travail au Centre participar de una conversación notable- mondial bahá’í car il était en train de mente franca y reveladora. Mientras par- mourir du cancer. John Hatcher avait te de la discusión involucra terminología toujours eu l’intention d’écrire un article bahá’í, este discurso provee una mirada sur la poésie de Roger White. Prenant dentro de la mente de un poeta dotado soudainement conscience qu’il ne lui y las luchas que él, como tantos artistas 92 The Journal of Bahá’í Studies 26.1-2 2016 bahá’ís, enfrentó al tratar de responder a The rest is vain imaginings and idle la exhortación de Bahá’u’lláh que el arte fancies, rumors and gossip, and none mejor sirve a la humanidad cuando eleva y of it is really important. edifica al alma y a su receptividad espiritu- al. Seguramente la poesía de Roger White Hatcher: But what about your early logró ese objetivo y sin duda su verso con- life? What influences prepared you to tinuará lográndolo en el futuro. accept the Bahá’í Faith and also led you to become interested in writing HOW I BEGAN TO WRITE poetry? Hatcher: Roger, how did you become a White: I was born in Toronto, Cana- Bahá’í, and what impact did that have da, in 1929. As a child I moved with on your life? my family to a small town in Central

Ontario called Belleville, sort of half- White: When I consider my life and way between Kingston and Toronto. It its relationship to my work, it occurs was then a small railroading town, but to me that perhaps the only thing very attractive, with a church on every that need be said is that I was fortu- street corner, and filled with virtuous nate enough to encounter the Bahá’í people. revelation and to be given the gift of The environment in which I grew accepting it while I was young. And up was not particularly conducive from that point in my mid-thirties on- to activity in the arts, so although I ward—presumably to the end of my wrote poetry as a youth of fourteen, life—I have had the opportunity to fifteen, and sixteen, I soon recognized devote my full time to the work of the that this was considered a “frivolous Faith. activity,” something not likely to pro- Because of this transformation in duce money. And in the environment my life, I was able to serve as secretary in which I grew up, North American and research assistant to very dear men were “achievers” and were ex- figures in the Bahá’í Cause, including pected to engage in activities that the Hands of the Cause in Africa, the would earn them a living. So I early Hands of the Cause of God residing put to rest the child in me and got on in the Holy Land, Mr. William Sears, with the task of making a living, and I and member of the Universal House succeeded in that very well for one of of Justice Mr. David Hofman. my rank and station. I consider myself blessed to have As a young a man, it was apparent had an opportunity for such close asso- that I wouldn’t be able to afford to go ciations, and for the last twenty years to college or university, so I took com- of my life to have been of service to mercial courses. I had been born into the Universal House of Justice. That, a Roman Catholic family, and the com- in a nutshell, is the reality of my life. mercial courses were conducted in a Reflections on the Art of My Poetry 93

nondenominational school—probably have never been my favorite thing— run by “evil people” like the Protes- probably led to my success in the field tants—so I was a “criminal” from the because I was totally detached from it. very beginning and very suspect in the godly village. Hatcher: But did any of this spur you In any case, I excelled at what I was into thinking of yourself as a writer? doing—working as a court reporter. And after a few years, I went on to White: I saw myself as required to serve in the House of Commons in sit down and record what these nice Canada, recording the debates there gentlemen said, but correcting their in my Pitman shorthand. (The short- grammar and spelling to give it a little hand machine had not yet come into polish so they all sounded like Winston use in Canada.) Indeed, according to a Churchill. And that was that. And yet book written by John Ward, the pres- perhaps you know that Dickens was a ent editor of Hansard,1 titled The Han- court reporter in his day, and I have sard Chronicles, I was considered “one read that we are to be grateful for this of the finest shorthand writers ever to fact because it was the boredom of his serve his Country” (173). work that drove him to write. But that’s really all that needs to be And as I mentioned, I had written said of my “career,” if such it can be as a youngster, but I put away that called. I was never very interested in it. childhood “frivolous nonsense” to get I fell into it. I had the skill to do it. I did on with the business of my career. But it because it was a financial necessity. my career, such as it was, came to an Court reporters and those capable of end in 1964 when I was called to serve writing shorthand at speeds exceeding as secretary to Hand of the Cause the speed of sound were few and far William Sears, first in Africa—in Nai- between, so we were a bunch of prima robi, Kenya—and then in California.2 donnas. We were well paid, and people Then in 1971 he “loaned” me to the took care of our every need. Universal House of Justice for a six- There was lots of work to be done, month period and never got me back and one could literally work night and again. day doing Royal Commissions and I used to wonder whether he never moonlighting in one way or another. asked to have me back, or whether he Nothing else much needs to be said did and the answer was, “No! We’re about it because, as I said, it didn’t re- never going to let that man out of our ally interest me. And who knows? Per- sight to interfere with the progress of haps my boredom—political speeches 2 The Hands of the Cause of God were 1 Hansard is the official edited report a select group of Bahá’ís appointed to this of the proceedings of both the House of role for life and whose main function was Commons and the House of Lords. to propagate and protect the Bahá’í Faith. 94 The Journal of Bahá’í Studies 26.1-2 2016

the teaching work. We shall keep him My work in Haifa began in the office in Haifa under close observation!” I of the Hands of the Cause of God re- used to speculate about those things, siding in the Holy Land, where I had although William Sears has been kind the pleasure of serving Amatu’l-Bahá enough to say that he really did ask and Rúhíyyih Khánum, Abu’l-Qásim Faizi, was told I was “otherwise occupied.” Paul Haney, and Mr. Furútan. After six months, the House of Hatcher: What was your early experi- Justice invited me to remain and to ence as a Bahá’í? serve in the publishing department, where my assignment was to research White: I became a Bahá’í in 1952 and and compile proposed content for The did all the usual things. I began life as Bahá’í World volumes, beginning with an isolated believer in Belleville. Then, Volume 14. Without being in any way after raising an Assembly there, I went qualified to do this, I accepted, and I on to live in Ottawa. I then moved to enjoyed the work very much, although Vancouver, British Columbia, where I it always stretched me. And I was often pioneered3 to make up the Assembly in disappointed with the appearance of a town called North Vancouver and a the books because I did it in my spare town called West Vancouver. Then I time, even typed the manuscripts, and met William Sears and began working had to rely on voluntary proofreaders. as his secretary. So the result wasn’t always perfect. In I spent twenty years in the Holy addition, sometimes the information Land there and retired in May 1991, to we were provided was not entirely Richmond, British Columbia, in order accurate, and back then it was beyond to be closer to my mother, my sister, our power to check its accuracy. and her family. In addition to my sister Nevertheless, I enjoyed the work. in Richmond, I also have a sister pio- For a time I also edited, compiled, and neering in Hay River, Northwest Ter- typed the Bahá’í International News ritories, Canada. She’s been there since Service newsletter, which goes from she was a young bride and has raised the Holy Land to all National Spiritual her family there. She’s a very active Assemblies with the objective of hav- Bahá’í in the community, and indeed, ing them share it with the friends, by she is the mother of the community. one means or another, to provide them My work with William Sears con- with an international view of the ac- sisted of running the office of the complishments of the Bahá’ís around Hand of the Cause, doing his personal the world. My other function was to secretarial work, and helping research serve as secretary to House of Justice his books and typing the manuscripts. member Mr. David Hofman. So I was 3 Any Bahá’í who rises and leaves his kept busy and did whatever writing home and journeys to another place for I did between the hours of midnight the purpose of teaching the Bahá’í Faith. and seven a.m. Reflections on the Art of My Poetry 95

GETTING MY POETIC LICENSE With that encouragement, I thought, “Why not?” So I began im- The permission to write came about in mediately to write in order to quiet all an unusual way. One day, about 1977, the voices of ridicule that I heard in David Hofman asked me out of the my head—the voices of those crones blue whether I wrote poetry. When I who stood in a long unlit corridor, confessed that I had as a youngster, sniggering and pointing fingers and he said, “Well, I wish you would start ridiculing. I longed to silence all my again!” doubts, and put to rest the refrains, He explained to me that he felt that “Who are you? What qualifications the Bahá’ís were not writing from have you? What are your educational within a Bahá’í perspective. He went qualifications to write poetry?” on to say that so much of our music— I had to dispense with all those and indeed, much of our poetry—was voices, and I did it in part by prayer derivative of Christian hymns and and in part by issuing myself verbal- that the time had come to make a be- ly—and mentally visualizing—an ac- ginning on work that was distinctively tual license that gave me full permis- Bahá’í, or at least that employed Bahá’í sion and consent to begin. Once I had imagery to pay tribute to our own that license and could firmly visualize it in my head, it became easier to write. historical characters and that sort of In fact, I didn’t have to struggle with thing. these voices for very long at all. When I stopped to think about it, And increasingly the poems began I found that I fully agreed with him, to present themselves to me—at first, and I went home that same night in a usually just a line, or sometimes two state of great indignation, saying to or three lines; but on other occasions, myself, “Well, of course, as the Guard- a full verse. And if I listened and ian said through his secretary, we will strained with great concentration, not have distinctive Bahá’í art or mu- usually the rest of the poem would sic until the Golden Age of the Bahá’í come, as it were, without my having Era, but surely a beginning must be to “write it.” Though naturally, some- made. Whatever is wrong with those times it came to that process as well. Bahá’ís? What are they waiting for?”

And, of course, when you say DISCUSSING MY POETICS things like that, invariably you hear a little voice saying, “Why don’t you do The only essay that I have written something about it?” So, honoring Da- about art or poetic theory was pub- vid Hofman’s request, I dashed off a lished in The Journal of Bahá’í Stud- poem. It was called “New Song.” And ies (1.2 [1988]) and titled “Poetry he was kind enough to say he liked it, and Self-Transformation.” But the and he asked me to do some more. fact is that I tend not to have any gift 96 The Journal of Bahá’í Studies 26.1-2 2016 for expounding on these things, nor time, as though the history of poetry inclination to do so. I’m not inclined with Bahá’í things written in English to discourse, and certainly I have no goes back much further than it does. qualifications to do so. In fact, you will probably find the essay very unschol- THE DISCIPLINE OF FORM arly, though I hope you will enjoy the fun of it. I suppose the importance of set pat- But you ask why, in general, I terns to my work is that I admire choose formal or set structures rather and enjoy the discipline they require. than the free verse that typifies most I seem to have been responsible for contemporary poetry. I would have writing three villanelles,4 all of very thought that when you look at all recent date—but before writing them, three of my books, you would sense I had no idea what a villanelle was, there to be a division—probably half except that I stumbled upon one in a and half—of free verse and set struc- book and liked the music of it. tures. And the fact is that I don’t know For me it is worthwhile working precisely what poetics generally con- around the difficulties of English tribute by employing a fixed pattern, syntax because I love the concision or why it’s worth working around and the discipline imposed by some the difficulties of English syntax to of the set forms. But again, I cannot comply with a pattern. In fact, I’m not emphasize too strongly that the poem really sure that I think that way at all. visits me (usually) already in the form My experience with poetry is that in which it chooses to be written, and I it’s not an intellectual exercise. I don’t become its amanuensis. begin by saying, “Aha! I shall now Offhand, I’m not sure I can recall begin to write a sonnet!” Usually, the all the forms I have employed. I know first line or two of the poem presents I have written sonnets. I know I have itself to me, and it is then that I dis- written quatrains. I recognize the vil- cover I’m in the midst of a sonnet, or lanelle form, but that’s about all. The possibly I appear to be heading toward rest of my work, although some of it a quatrain, or whatever. rhymes, is written in established forms Also, because I’m singularly lack- whose names I don’t know. ing in training in poetic theory (or For instance, a poem called “The even in literature courses, not having Other Shore” (Witness of Pebbles 119) completed high school), I have little may be in an established form, but I knowledge of set forms, so I’m not don’t recognize its name, though you really competent to talk about any of are welcome to supply one if you know this, though I do like the idea of poems arriving in suggested set forms, as if 4 A villanelle is a fixed nineteen-line perhaps they were written in an earlier poem that employs only two rhymes with the rhyme scheme aba aba aba aba aba abaa. Reflections on the Art of My Poetry 97

it. This one is, incidentally, a poem I But I was not for hearing. like very much without being able to Gay was my song claim that I understand or know much in the noisy throng about it. It was one of those pieces and I was not for hearing. that “arrived” fully formed: White was the rose my true-love cast, The Other Shore White as his hand which cast it, I trod underfoot the bloom that lasts, Let us not stroke too swiftly toward Disdainfully I danced past it. the green opposite shore My laughter was loud where death rehearses. We have tried these In the whirling crowd, pearl-promising waves before Disdainfully I danced past it. and might guess the danger. Tender the kiss my true-love blew, Recall how always we turn back spent Piercingly tinged with sorrow. to the sun-warmed sand Deeming all hearts, like mine, untrue and stand anguished in separate solitudes, I sought new lips each morrow. though hand in hand, Swift in the dance each to each grown stranger. I paid no glance And sought new lips each morrow. Not that the brave bird lied. But that we, young, too soon said Honeyed the cup my true-love gave Land! Land! And, plunging, did not see From grape unknown to men. his torn pinion, his bloodied head. Who pause to taste will love enslave Ease us, wise love, toward this wet danger. And linger to taste again. Captive of wine Another poem that I have perhaps From unslaking vine written in an established form, though I linger to drink again. the name of the form I also do not know, is “Song of the Cup” in The Wit- Part of my interest in writing in ness of Pebbles (54–55). I liked the mu- forms that are formal or recognized is sic of this piece, and I have imagined that I like the idea of building a bridge that it might well lend itself to being to what has happened before in English set to music: literature. I don’t think Bahá’ís should suddenly thrust themselves full center Song of the Cup stage with exclusively free verse or verse that derives from, say, T. S. Eliot, Sweet wild words my true-love sang, a man whose Anglican wincing and His sugared voice endearing. negativity tend to bore me. He may Clear on the perfumed air it rang have been one of my influences, but I don’t think of him that way. In fact, I 98 The Journal of Bahá’í Studies 26.1-2 2016 conceive of writing against him, as it of her own poems that same view is were—of employing irony in what I there implicitly. hope is a constructive and sometimes She seems to me to be a woman who amusing way. recognized that it’s no longer possible I have the suspicion that it is true to to worship an angry god, an old man say that I am the first poet to have been in the sky who hopes to catch you in published in English who has made his trap of sin. I think of her as a sister use of irony and the sardonic in poems to Táhirih5—Táhirih, of course, being with spiritual or with Bahá’í themes. I blessed by recognizing the Manifes- suspect that to be true. You may know tation and employing her talents, her of others who have written in similar poetry, in disseminating His Cause. ways and could prove me wrong, but And I believe that Emily recognized at I’ve always thought with a smile that some level that a new day had dawned, I should like that as a footnote in the even though she had no opportunity to history of Bahá’í literature—to have use her skills to proclaim God. attributed to me the pioneering, as it For example, I love her idea of were, of Bahá’í literature into the field calling God a “burglar” in one of her of irony. poems.6 I don’t know of anyone else having said that about God, and I like INFLUENCES ON MY WRITING the idea very much. I play with the idea of Táhirih and Emily being spir- If I may speak of influences, there are itual sisters in a poem called “Figures few poets I have read in depth, one ex- in a Garden” in The Witness of Pebbles ception being Emily Dickinson. I must (137–42). say that she annoys me much of the time because of her excesses. In fact, 5 Táhirih (1817–1852) was a follower her excesses annoy me almost as much of the Báb, though she indicates in her po- as my own do, or maybe even more. etry that she also recognized Bahá’u’lláh I have read considerably the works as the Promised One the writings of the by Yeats and by Blake and by that oth- Báb foretell as “Him Whom God Shall er nice man I like, Ogden Nash—and Make Manifest.” Dickinson (1830–1886) then there’s Robert Graves—but I was writing during this same period. don’t know how much these poets have 6 Dickinson’s poem “39 (49)” is one influenced me. You might be better that deals with some of the many deaths able to judge that than I, but I think that plagued her throughout childhood and on into adulthood. God is thus a “bur- even in paying tribute to Dickinson glar” because Emily lost a lot people who and attempting to use her voice, I im- were very important to her at a young pose my own accents, and certainly I age, which would be traumatic for any impose a sort of Bahá’í perspective on child. These losses fostered an interest her work—although I think in some in morbidity, which she would hold on to throughout her life. Reflections on the Art of My Poetry 99

My other influences go back to Eloquent pin! before I began to read poetry—and I One dot— began to read poetry extensively only Infinitude within. in my late forties. Those influences are undoubtedly Ira Gershwin, the lyri- THE SONNET AND I cist, and Johnny Mercer, who wrote some of the wittiest lyrics I know of— It could also be said that I feel very and some of the most profound. And virtuous when I use an established another great lyricist whom I adore is form. Writing a sonnet and pulling it Cole Porter. I think these are the men off—or having it arrive full blown, as I would beg to be descended from, if I they often do with me—is like getting were to concern myself with that sort up early in the morning and scrubbing of question. the kitchen floor, and washing the car, But getting back to the notion of and running several errands success- recognized forms, I think of my poem fully, and getting to the bank on time, “Inscription for the Head of a Pin” and getting home in time for dinner, (Witness of Pebbles 62–63). I suppose and having performed innumerable fait could be said it’s written in tercets, vors for people along the way. but I’ve not seen any work—that I re- I just feel so virtuous when I write member, at least—written quite like a sonnet; I don’t know why that is. It’s this, where the second part extends just that its discipline appeals to me, and the first comprises just two words: and I love the form. And I’m grateful that occasionally poems visit me in that Inscription for the Head of a Pin form because I think the sonnet lends itself particularly well to the expres- To Persian mystics all writing ema- sion of spiritual concerns. The sonnet nates from a single calligraphic dot seems to possess a kind of chastity, on the page. The Báb is the Primal a pristine purity, and it requires such Point, “from which have been gener- compression that, if it is successful at ated all created things.” all, it usually says something of merit —Marzieh Gail in a memorable way. I would have difficulty selecting One dot: any of my own sonnets as examples, From this but I am really happy with them all. All else begot. If I retain them, if I publish them, Take pains: it’s probably because I like them—or This sign did, at least, when they were writ- All else contains. ten—and I felt virtuous and victorious Rave well: in bringing them off. So you may be This mark unhappy about this, but I do toss the Worlds will tell. ball back in your court. If you can 100 The Journal of Bahá’í Studies 26.1-2 2016

find any of my sonnets that appeal Your song would not hold me. With half to you, by all means, use them, if you my heart will, as illustrations; I think “Sonnets I’d hear You and at faintest first call flee for the Friend” in Another Song, An- Truckling and groveling to my sweet, tart other Season (119–20) is relatively well And jealous love how asks fidelity. accomplished: Yet, faithfully, You call this faithless one And stumbling, halt, at last to You I run. Sonnets for the Friend III I What love exacts I had not thought to To whom am I to sing if not to You yield, Who know, well know, the singer and the Nor guessed the crazing dart the Hunter season hurled, And listen still and know the verse be true Or might have found indifference a shield Who are Himself the music and its reason. And built of gold and pride a dullard’s My barren fields lie parched beneath the world. sun But sure the Marksman’s aim and keen His Nor orange and olive yield in arid earth sight; And fallow stay till husbanded by One I could but dress His raven locks the night. Whose pledge embodies all of death and I might have fled His perfumed, silken tent birth. But for the madding blandishment of Of what then shall I sing if not of this: grape; I learn the ancient patience of the land, Heart ravished by His voice, resistance rent Mute witness to misfortune’s scorching And, flagon drained, I could not seek kiss escape. And reach for rain, as reached I for Your In passion’s sweeping tide I lost all fear hand. And could but stroke my Captor’s brow When I but sound Your name in prayer or the year. dream What love demands I had not thought to Behold! My rivers run, my orchards teem. give Who, dead of this, am yet left here to live. II Sonnets appeal to me again in these Why would You have my feeble, feckless days—as does the quatrain used in love? Emily Dickinson’s poetry—because Another’s charm compellingly holds sway. they are well suited to the expression Inconstant, from Your kiss I’d turn away of spiritual matters that are so difficult Often and often to him, the mated dove to talk about in an everyday voice. It Truer than I, more passionately whole. seems to me that in much of the po- I share another’s wine-cup and embrace. etry I’ve read, including modernized Encouched with You, I’d helplessly extol sonnets, where the spiritual question is The enslaving power of that other’s grace. approached, a kind of triviality sets in. Reflections on the Art of My Poetry 101

I don’t know—to me, it’s like the “Summer Song,”9 “Autumn Song,”10 need to preserve the sacred text writ- and “Winter Song,”11 which are used ten in the kind of English Shoghi as section dividers in the book: Effendi used in the translation.7 I just think that some things the poem wants Spring Song to say can be better said in established forms. They command for me, or in My hope put out white petals me, a degree of respect that free verse In tentative delight does not always achieve. But twice there came concussive frost, In my book dedicated to the work Obliterating blight of Emily Dickinson, One Bird, One Cage, One Flight: An Interpretation, in Which, blotting out my April, Verse, of the Themes and Images from Stirred wisdom in my root. the Letters of Emily Dickinson, I can re- Should another burgeoning come fer you to some of my poems which I Will twig renew? ’Tis moot. think are good examples of quatrains that echo the voice of Emily Dick- Summer Song inson relatively successfully, yet say something more than she might have No pebble mars the brook today, said. I’m thinking of “Spring Song,”8 No film subtracts from noon And should I faint in daylight My pillow would be June. 7 Sometimes alluded to as Royal English, the language Shoghi Effendi used to translate My skin receives the evening, Bahá’í scripture is a remarkable synthesis that is ultimately of his own devising: “Many of My eye owns all it scans the Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh and ‘Abdu’l-Bahá And should I faint beneath the moon are in exalted and highly poetic language She’ll reach out long white hands. in the original Persian and Arabic and you will see, for example, that when translating Autumn Song Bahá’u’lláh’s Writings into English the beloved Guardian did not use present-day Odors tangled in the trees, colloquial English but evolved a highly poetic The sky was full of south, and beautiful style, using numbers of archaic Leaves raced headlong on the lawn, expressions reminiscent of the translations One rose to kiss my mouth. of the Bible” (from a letter dated 7 October 1973, written by the Universal House of Justice to a National Spiritual Assembly 9 One Bird, p. 50. This piece introduces printed Lights of Guidance, p. 108). the period 1860–1869. 8 One Bird, p. 20. Each of these four 10 One Bird, p. 80. This piece introduces poems introduces a successive section that the period 1870–1879. covers a stage in Dickinson’s life. This 11 One Bird, p. 106. This piece piece introduces the period 1841–1859. introduces the period 1880–1886. 102 The Journal of Bahá’í Studies 26.1-2 2016

Its taste was tart as memory, The Criminal Its aroma was goodbye, It is a criminal thing to be a boy in a I felt a soft astonishment godly village, It should so gladly die. But maybe he will be forgiven. —Emily Dickinson Immortality was hinted In its flutter at my lip It is criminal to be a boy No one shrewd foot in sure pursuit (The village won’t approve!) But cautious lest it slip. The accomplice of disruptive joy And unselective love. Winter Song Boys leap, or dawdle, dreaming, A whistle on their lips, Peace is such a deep place Tell of distant dazzling worlds, And life so small a spoon Lost treasure and foreign ships. Though we dig with fervor Boys rustle so with secrets— We cannot reach it soon. We wince and look askance; They’re intimates of eagles’ nests Heaven’s such a high place And may, unbidden, dance. And shank of hope so short Though we jump forever Small fervors bulge their pockets, ’Tis unrewarded sport. Their grace is all awry They blurt of fabled things and sob Winter’s such a cold place, Because the phoenix dies. Igniting faith and art, They are fugitives from duty, I clasp my warming vision Shun our harsh pieties Of the swift thaw of the heart. Yet without pageantry they serve No less our deity. Another poem in which I pay trib- The fox knows their sly longing, ute to Emily is called “The Criminal” The trees have heard them pray; in One Bird, One Cage, One Flight (51). I’ve known one store his lawless hopes I like it very much, but it just occurred Where nothing may decay. to me the other day what the poem is really about: the “criminal,” of course, Bareheaded all the summer long is the child in us, the creative self, that The boy, pell-mell, will pass, Till criminal, betrayed like us, very self which, as children, many of Confess himself to grass. us slaughter. And I realized with a start that this is a theme I have written I guess I’m as thick as a plank. Oc- on in other poems, and I’ve never even casionally I have this little ray of light noticed this connection before: that dawns on my consciousness. I think “The Criminal” is a little, clever Reflections on the Art of My Poetry 103

one, and it works on a number of lev- Sameness,” and “Notes from a Yankee els: it reinforces Emily’s use of iro- Kitchen.” In Part Three, “Love Fare” ny, yet it goes beyond the immediate appeals to me, along with “Sight,” and concern of the activity of a little boy there are various others I think de- in a godly village. But for me, it’s an serve attention. urgent plea not to destroy the creative I have found it useful to use Emi- self, a mistake I nearly made myself, ly’s voice and her quatrain pattern to but there’s no need to go into that. Suf- say things that contemporary people fice it to say that I’m glad I’ve found a are not much interested in hearing— way to rediscover the creative child in things for which there seems to be myself, the little criminal of whom the only circumlocutious expressions. I godly village would not approve. like the directness of a quatrain, and An example of another poem on I have hoped that some of mine might this theme is “Lines on an Unlament- have an original quality—that they ed Death” in The Witness of Pebbles. not only pay tribute to Emily, but also Two other examples of poems about let me impose my own mark on them. the creative self in this same volume SOME OF MY FAVORITES are “Recovery” and “Confrontation.” These are also about the “criminal” in Some poems I have a real crush on, whose death we often collude as chil- even after all these years, but these dren. And many, as you know, unfortu- are pieces that don’t appear to have nately never rediscover this aspect of been written in any established form. their nature, or else cover it over. And I think one of these, “Prayer for the what a loss that is! True Believer” in The Witness of Peb- One Bird, One Cage, One Flight is, bles (72–73), has the potential to be of course, a collection of poems I’ve an important poem. In The Witness written in homage to Emily Dickin- of Pebbles I also like “Lines for a New son. And I would point out that Part Believer” (95) and “The Artifact” (96), One of the book contains poems but probably because they deal with drawing on some of her early work things that are close to my heart: the and her early letters, and I don’t think need to avoid rigidity, and formulae, they have much merit except to recap- and inflexibility, both spiritually and ture the kind of tone she used, a kind administratively. of mock-heroic effect. But there are a David Hofman has mentioned to couple of good ones among them. I me, on two or three occasions, that he think “A Modest Glass” is admirable, is of the opinion that One Bird, One if I may say so. I also like “Dancing” Cage, One Flight is my “masterwork.” I don’t ask everyone to agree with his and “The Weather in Amherst.” decision, but I find it interesting for In Part Two, in addition to “The him to say so, especially because it was Criminal,” I like “The Shipwreck,” “A published by George Ronald.12 Glee among the Garrets,” “A Feast of Absence,” “The Infatuation of 12 George Ronald Publishers was 104 The Journal of Bahá’í Studies 26.1-2 2016

A poem which I suspect might sur- and to look for the authentic, to avoid vive me and which is such fun to read the fake. It even occurs to me that’s (I can never resist reading this on any probably one of the roles of the artist, occasion when I’m asked to read pub- whether he knows it consciously or licly) is called “The Pioneer” in Another not. But if he does his job properly, he Song, Another Season (37–40).13 It isn’t may be doing that very thing. written in any established form, but And in that vein, another poem I it’s a poem I enjoy because I’ve known still like after all these years—which I so many of the ladies who are the sub- think is strong and which is certainly ject of this piece. the most autobiographical poem I’ve written—is called “New Song” (An- WHAT THE POETIC PROCESS other Song 116). It’s free verse—and MEANS TO ME probably not very good free verse at that. However, I like what the poem Already I suspect all I am saying is says, and it certainly describes my disappointing or inadequate. I sus- experience in the years before I found pect it doesn’t begin to answer the the Bahá’í Faith and has as its climax kind of questions one might need to my discovery of it. David Hofman on write a scholarly paper. I just rattle off a number of occasions attempted to thoughts as they occur to me. After all, persuade me that this is one of my I have never made a claim to profun- best poems. dity and certainly not to scholarship. David also likes very much “Lines However, in the last few sentences I’ve from a Battlefield” in Another Song probably answered your question in (111). This, too, is autobiographical, which you ask me to describe my best, I suppose. And it may be a fresh ex- my strongest, and my favorite work. pression of a very ancient theme—the But then you ask why I consider them struggle of the lower and higher self, so. again a subject of keen interest to me I think the poems I’ve mentioned and one I have treated in any number are my strongest and my favorite piec- of ways in any number of poems, es because they are successful and they when I stop and look back at them. deal with themes that are closer to my The reward, of course, was the heart than almost any other. I suspect reception accorded to my work—not I am never too tired of persuading only by the Bahá’í community, but by people in my poetry—urging them, some outside it, because it had not oc- at least—to stay away from the false curred to me that what a Bahá’í might say might be of the remotest interest, founded by David Hofman in 1943. 13 Though a delightful piece, this or even understood, by a non-Bahá’í four-page poem is too lengthy to include reader. However, I received support and too coherent to be represented by a through my association in Haifa with mere excerpt. the group called Voices, a poetry Reflections on the Art of My Poetry 105

association consisting mostly of Jews, paper?”—you will appreciate why the but from all parts of Europe and the poem “The Criminal” means so much rest of the world, who choose to write to me. It was, I suppose, one way of in English. Their support and consid- setting the score straight in that erable encouragement helped a great regard. deal. I suppose every poet has things But when I think of the publishing which he holds dear to his heart as a of Another Song, Another Season—my result of comments on his work, and I first work, which appeared in 1979, have to admit that there are three that when I finally consented to David are favorites of mine. A girl, a Bahá’í Hofman’s request to give him enough unknown to me, once wrote, saying, poems for a book (he had asked that “It is as though you have lived my life.” several times)—it occurred to me that Then a young man, also a Bahá’í whom perhaps it was just the right time for it. I have not met, wrote, saying, “It is as Perhaps the Bahá’í community needed though you have read my entrails.” a book of this kind, and someone had And then there’s the much more fre- to write it. It just fell to my lot to do it; quent experience of having someone and I was grateful that it had occurred, sidle up to me after a poetry reading and I enjoyed it hugely. to say: “Well, ordinarily I don’t like With the issuing of my “license,” poetry—I don’t have any use for it at the poems came as if a floodgate had all—but yours isn’t bad!” been opened, and I’ve been at it ever since. In addition to Another Song, REACHING OUT Another Season; The Witness of Pebbles (1981); and One Bird, One Cage, One I very much enjoy the idea of Flight (1983), there is, of course, my cross-pollination in the arts, and I’m novella A Sudden Music (1983), which happy to say that in recent years, a contains some poetry, a lot of it bad. number of the friends in various parts There is also on the horizon for pub- of the world have begun to set some lication next year a new collection of of my poems to music. I feel so hon- my work called Occasions of Grace, ored by this and, of course, detached which George Ronald has said it hopes from it in the same breath, because to publish.14 once a poem leaves your hands—and Now having heard me on the sub- certainly after it is published—it takes ject of the internal voices of ridicule on a life of its own and is no longer and the ghosts one must slay in order yours, and what it becomes isn’t really to write one’s work—the voices that the author’s business. But still, it’s nice say, “Ah, but look at the poets of the to have someone say, in effect, “I met past. How dare you raise your pen to that kid you sent away to college, and he’s all right.” I always feel that’s what 14 George Ronald published this work in 1992. one is really saying about the poem 106 The Journal of Bahá’í Studies 26.1-2 2016

when someone says something kind asked, not long before leaving the Holy about my work. Land, to address the youth on the sub- Most notably, a Bahá’í pioneer to ject of the arts, and notably on poetry, Luxembourg, Jean South, has begun so I created this spiel and I offer it to to set my work to music. I’m told by you for whatever amusement it may professional musicians that her work bring. I can’t imagine that it holds any is thus far unique in the Bahá’í revela- ideas that have not already occurred to tion in that it departs from the forms anyone interested in poetry, and prob- we have grown accustomed to, includ- ably many others could articulate the ing folk music, and approaches more ideas more eloquently. I call the piece closely the lieder.15 They are songs that “Bring Chocolate”: could be sung by professional singers without embarrassment in a concert, Art has a message for us. It says: or as recital songs, or as encores. This “Care, grow, develop, adapt, over- has made me very happy, particularly come, nurture, protect, foster, when I realize that Jane is a senior cit- cherish.” It says: “Your reality is izen, a pioneer, and a woman—I mean, spiritual.” It says: “Achieve your what more could one ask for? And as full humanness.” It invites us to Ethel Merman is said to have said of laugh, cry, reflect, strive, perse- Mary Martin, “She’s OK, if you like vere. It says: “Rejoice!” Above all, talent.” it says to us to be! We cannot turn I enjoy readings, and I’m often asked our backs on art. to give them. I suppose, being fresh I am of the conviction that, from the Holy Land, I am considered in the future, increasingly, one something of a resource in the com- important measure of the spiri- munity. In any case, I delight when the tual maturity and health of the Bahá’ís ring and ask if I would like to Bahá’í world community will be speak at a fireside or give a reading. its capacity to attract and win the After those long years of abstinence allegiance of artists of all kinds from direct teaching work in Israel, and its sensitivity and imagina- it brings great pleasure.16 But I was tiveness in making creative use of them. 15 “Lied” is a German and Dutch word in Israel and is effectively a “guest” in that that means “song.” In English, the term country, it has long been the wisdom of often alludes to the “art song” and refers the Guardian, and now of the House of to those works that have been influenced Justice, that Bahá’ís visiting on pilgrimage by romantic poems from other languages. or residing there to work at the World The themes of the lied more often than not Centre should refrain from actively involve romantic love as set in a pastoral teaching in order to not be perceived as context. proselytes and thereby become obnoxious 16 Because the Bahá’í World Centre is to the government and citizenry of Israel. Reflections on the Art of My Poetry 107

Artists—not tricksters and criticism—which may be hostile, conjurers, but committed art- vituperative, negative, and offer ists—will be a vital force in pre- no solutions—may lead to their venting inflexibility in our com- rejection and dismissal by the very munity. They will be a source of society they long to influence. rejuvenation. They will serve as a Artists are frequently seen as bulwark against fundamentalism, troublemakers, menaces, destroy- stagnation, and administrative ers of order, or frivolous clowns. sterility. Artists call us away from Sometimes the kindest thing said formulas, caution us against the of them is that they are neurotic fake, and accustom us to unpre- or mad. In the Bahá’í community, dictability—that trait which so it must be different. Bahá’u’lláh characterizes life. They validate said so. Consider that the Bahá’í our senses. They link us to our Writings state that “[a]ll art is own history. They clothe and give a gift of the Holy Spirit” and ex- expression to our dreams and hort us to respect those engaged aspirations. They teach us impa- in sciences, arts, and crafts. tience with stasis. They aid us to Artists have, among other re- befriend our private experiences sponsibilities, that of questioning and heed our inner voices. They our values, of leading us to new reveal how we may subvert our insights that release our potential unexamined mechanistic respons- for growth, of illuminating our es to the world. They sabotage humanity, of renewing our au- our smugness. They alert us to thenticity by putting us in touch divine intimations. Art conveys with our inner selves, and of cre- information about ourselves and ating works of art that challenge our universe which can be found us—as Rilke says—to change nowhere else. Our artists are our our lives. They are a stimulus to benefactors. transformation. To the degree the Bahá’í com- In the Bahá’í Order, the artists munity views its artists as a gift will find their home at the center rather than a problem will it wit- of their community, free to inter- ness the spread of the Faith “like act constructively with the people wildfire” as promised by Shoghi who are served by their art, free Effendi, through their talents to give and to receive strength being harnessed to the dissemina- and inspiration. It is my hope tion of the spirit of the Cause. that the young people gathered In general society, artists are here tonight will be in the van- often at war with their world and guard of this reconciliation be- live on its fringes. Their lack of tween artists and their world. As discretion in expressing their Bahá’u’lláh foretells, the artists 108 The Journal of Bahá’í Studies 26.1-2 2016

are coming home to claim their place. I urge you: Be there! Welcome them! Bring chocolate!

Now, John, perhaps you will understand why I resist discoursing unless co- erced into doing so. I hope that some of this will be of use. Thank you, John, for your intentions. Good bye.

***

That tape was recorded in the late fall of 1991. Roger White hung on to life for a little over a year, dying on April 10, 1993.

WORKS CITED

Ward, John. The Hansard Chronicles: A Celebration of the First Hundred Years of Hansard in Canada’s Parliament. Ottawa: Deneau and Greenberg, 1980. Print. White, Roger. A Sudden Music. Oxford: George Ronald, 1983. Print. ———. Another Song, Another Season: Poems and Portrayals. Oxford: George Ron- ald, 1979. Print. ———. Occasions of Grace: More Poems and Portrayals. Oxford: George Ronald, 1992. Print. ———. One Bird, One Cage, One Flight: An Interpretation, in Verse, of the Themes and Images from the Letters of Emily Dickinson. Happy Camp, CA: Nature- graph Publishers, Inc., 1983. Print. ———. The Witness of Pebbles: Poems and Portrayals. Oxford: George Ronald, 1981. Print.