The silver cat, and other poems

In Short

This volume is a lyrical meditation on the transience of life and the persistence of the human spirit. Through a series of carefully crafted poems, the work moves from intimate, candlelit conversations about love to broader reflections on death, freedom, and the nature of the divine. It has endured as a testament to the poet’s ability to find "the outline of the perfect rose" in a fallen petal, offering readers a refined, musical engagement with the big questions of existence that remain as relevant today as they were in 1928.

The Story

The collection begins with an invocation, setting a tone of reverence for the "divine original" hidden within small, earthly things. From this premise, the narrative arc moves into the title poem, "The Silver Cat," which serves as the emotional anchor of the book. In a room bathed in candlelight, two figures sit together, contemplating the passage of time and the fragility of the world outside. The speaker observes that while the world is filled with vibrant cities and distant wonders, these things are ultimately "a guess and a blending" of shifting shadows. The dialogue between the two characters explores the tension between human desire—which seeks to possess beauty—and the inevitable decay that claims all physical things. The speaker posits that while youth and color eventually vanish, love remains the one force that can bridge the gap between "the thinker and his thought."

As the poems progress, the focus shifts outward from the intimate room to the wider world of the "old fiddler" in the Coda from "Polly Put the Kettle On." Here, the narrative broadens to include the experience of age and the loss of dreams. The fiddler’s music serves as a metaphor for the human condition, moving from the sorrow of heartbreak to a higher form of courage—the ability to face "the long empty road" even when hope has dwindled. The arc of the book continues by confronting the societal urge to monetize or trade in concepts like peace and freedom. The poet argues that these states cannot be bought or sold in a "market place," but are instead built slowly, like a city constructed from clouds, by those who reject hatred.

The final movement of the collection grapples directly with the cycle of life and death, particularly as it manifests in the contrast between the North and the South. Using the imagery of the beech tree in agony and the lush, life-affirming landscapes of the South, the poems suggest that death is merely a veil for a greater truth. The snake-like coils of winter and decay are ultimately overcome by the resurrection of spring, symbolized by the nightingale’s song. The book concludes with "The Immortal Hour," where the voices of the poems themselves—the "words the poets hear and fail of"—claim a place beyond time. They speak to the limitations of human empires and the "finite stain" of truth, ultimately suggesting that beauty and the spirit exist in a realm that constant, wearying love cannot fully reach, but which the soul can touch through the quiet, persistent courage of simply being.

How It Unfolds

The invocation of the divine The collection opens by establishing a philosophy of smallness, suggesting that the perfect and eternal are reflected in the imperfect and temporary. This sets a contemplative stage for the deeper inquiries that follow.

The room of shadows The central dialogue in "The Silver Cat" traps two lovers in a moment of stillness, forcing them to confront the impermanence of the world outside their walls. They move from a discussion of worldly beauty to a realization that only love can resolve the conflict between what we see and what we feel.

The fiddler’s lesson The narrative transitions to an older, more weary perspective through the figure of the village fiddler. He plays a melody that tracks the arc of a life from youthful longing to the final, necessary courage required to face death.

The rejection of worldly commerce The poet shifts to a social critique, arguing that humanity’s greatest virtues—peace and freedom—are inherently resistant to being commodified or measured by material standards. He calls for a spiritual architecture that prioritizes the "stoneless streets" of the soul over the clamor of the marketplace.

The cycle of the seasons The poems turn toward the natural world, using the changing seasons as a vehicle to understand death not as an end, but as a bridegroom to life. By observing the rebirth of the landscape, the poet finds a way to muffle the "wings triumphant over death" with the beauty of the natural world.

The final release The book closes by speaking from the perspective of the eternal, distancing itself from the human struggle for truth. It leaves the reader with a sense of transcendence, acknowledging that some things, like beauty itself, are meant to pass by.

The People

The book is populated by figures who represent different stages and facets of human awareness. The two lovers in the opening poem represent the human impulse to pause and understand the nature of love before the "divine" slips away into the dark. They are defined by their desire for permanence in a world that is essentially a "ghost" of reality.

Then there is the old fiddler, a symbol of long-lived wisdom. He does not offer simple comfort; instead, he offers the music of endurance. He is the personification of the journey toward the "road-end," providing a model for how a person can carry the weight of life and still find the strength to transform that weight into something beautiful.

Finally, the "ghost-king" and the voice of the "Immortal Hour" act as detached observers. They represent the perspective of eternity, addressing figures like Caesar to point out the futility of earthly power. They serve as a contrast to the human characters—they are the "words the poets hear," and they stand in opposition to the "tired feet of love," representing a state of existence that has transcended the need for human validation or the constraints of truth. Together, these figures move from the urgency of human connection to the serenity of the infinite.

In Its Own Voice

The poet captures the fragile nature of earthly beauty in this observation from the title poem:

“What is the world but a guess and a blending

of what was never with that which has an ending?”

Describing the quiet, defiant strength found in the face of age, the poet writes:

“Courage to the road-end, and after,

he played, and the last breath crying ’twixt a sob and laughter ‘Death? What is death?’”

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an investigation into the tension between the physical world and the spiritual realm. It asks whether beauty, which is by definition fleeting, can hold any ultimate meaning. The poet argues that while we are prisoners to our perceptions—seeing the world as a collection of shifting, "crumbled lions" of waves or "daffodil cities"—the act of loving provides a temporary, necessary escape from this fragmentation. The central argument is that peace and freedom are not political or material acquisitions but are internal, "stoneless" states of being that require a profound, almost tragic level of courage to maintain. It is a work about the necessity of accepting the "heartbreaking" nature of existence as the price for witnessing the "divine original."

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate the economy of modernist poetry but crave a more romantic, lyrical sensibility will find much to admire here. It feels like a quiet, candlelit room in a bustling world—a space that demands the reader slow down to the pace of the poet’s rhythmic, reflective lines. The language is elegant and precise, avoiding the sprawl of contemporary prose, and yet it carries a weight of melancholy that feels deeply modern.

Those who enjoy exploring the intersection of philosophy and nature will be drawn to the vivid, sensory imagery of the "pomegranate-tree" and the "silver secret" of the Javanese dancers. However, a reader should be prepared for a certain degree of abstraction; the poet is often more interested in the "shadow of life" than in the concrete mechanics of a plot. Because the work is rooted in a tradition of classical allusion and high-minded dialogue, it asks for a patient, meditative reader. It rewards those who are willing to sit with the "hushed waterfall" of the poet's language, leaving them with a lingering, gentle reminder that even when the cities of our dreams vanish, the "pale forgotten kiss" of love remains as the final, enduring truth.