Davis, Martin, Mahon etc, all fine poets, and I'm
always happy to see their poems. But I wonder why
no one ever seems to mention Donald Justice, who
has seemed to me for many years the real master. I
don't mean only technical mastery, although no one
is better---I envy him his skill. And no one has
mastered so many forms. There have been quite a
few terrific sonnets over the last few decades, and
I'm uneasy about calling any one poem the best, but
if I had to nominate one, it might be this:
CORONADO BEACH, CALIFORNIA
In a hotel room by the sea, the Master
Sits brooding on the continent he has crossed.
Not that he foresees immediate disaster,
Only a sort of freshness being lost---
Or should he go on calling it Innocence?
The sad-faced monsters of the plains are gone;
Wall Street controls the wilderness. There's an immense
Novel in all this waiting to be done,
But not, not---sadly enough---by him. His talents,
Such as they may be, want an older theme,
One rather more civilized than this, on balance.
For him now always the consoling dream
Is just the mild dear light of Lamb House falling
Beautifully down the pages of his calling.
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