Word: foamings
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...beautiful poem. There are many admirable details; one might call attention especially to the first appearance of Isolt, to the sense of tragedy which is present from the beginning, to the recurrent beat of waves which one hears continually throughout the poem, rolling "in a long wash of foam." It is free from those vested paradoxes and curious analogies which made so many pages of "Roman Barthalow" boring or even absurd! Mr. Robinson has here an anthem at all times worthy of his theme. There are occasional exceptions, but they are unimportant and are enormously overbalanced by the many passages...
...verse is in the main respectable. Haven Hubbard's "Since you have Waned from Us" touches the chord of sentimental melancholy gently and sweetly. Mr. Riche's "To One Who Goes into the Night" has simple tenderness and sincerity. Phillip Hitchborn's "Foam-White", equally neat in its versification, falls however, to escape artificiality, and James Thomas Flexner's "Resurrection" does not reach the maturity of though and emotion which the subject demands...
...glass of beer behind the bar (as he was too self-conscious to do in his Oxford days) he drew a foaming schooner. "Your health!" he tasted the foam, then left the glass up on the bar where eager hands seized, drained it. "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow!" roared the bums. Perhaps abashed, Edward drifted toward the door, passed through the crowd with several handshakes and a jest. Thend sought a moment's respite...
...wave she thought she saw her son, lying on his side with arms beseeching; but the vision passed as the wave fell in a dull smother. The next wave was empty. Mrs. Ravmitzky watched its cruel curve and pounding explosion, when, in the hissing sheet of dirty foam that moved toward her, she saw her son again, face down this time, legs askew, as if he were sleeping. The foam sucked back. The apparition lay on the wet shingle. Mrs. Ravmitzky, dazed, saw that its bleached flesh was real, its grey face her son's own. She fainted...
Still the waves piled over one another ribaldly, broke, boiled away. Then a loud report fetched all eyes aft. They saw a pontoon shoot clear of the combers and settle back into the ocean in a smother of foam. Quickly then another catapulted through the waves, floated off casually. Far below the surface a chain with links two and a half inches thick and tested to a strain of 110 tons had parted. The work of months at the risk of many lives, all realized, had been swept away in a single moment. The wind blew fresher, the seas rolled...