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Salient. An Organ of Student Opinion at Victoria College, Wellington, N.Z. Vol. 2, No. 4 March 29, 1939

The Fugitives

The Fugitives

In "The Fugitives," a small book of verse by Helen Brookfield, recently published, we find definite evidence of a poetic sensibility and a happy gift of expression. This is not great poetry, but it is pleasant to read—and we think this latter to be, perhaps, the preferable quality. Some of it has already appealed in "Art in New Zealand," "New Zealand Best Poems." and in city newspapers.

Miss Brookfield has an observing eye and is at home with nature, resulting in a suggestion of a New Zealand atmosphere, charming because it is not dragged in by the heels for effect. She has also a strong sense of rhythm. Although very slight, one of the most pleasing poems is that beginning:—

Time goes over
With clouds and the wild birds flying
Wild as a swan ...

("The Fugitives." Helen Brookfield 46 pages. Whiteombe & Tombs Ltd. 2/6.)

It is hardly possible that a society for the suppression of vice can over be kept within the bounds of good sense and moderation. . . . Mon, whoso trade is rat catching, love to catch rats; the bug destroyer seizes upon the bug with delight; and the suppressor is gratified by finding his vice.

—Sydney Smith.

Damn all expurgated books, the dirtiest book of all is the expurgated book.

—Walt Whitman.