Maine, and the sound of the rote on ledges, was essential to Wilbert's
system, the eternal conflict of sea and rock-bound coast. But I think it must be
remembered that though the bulk of Wilbert's poetry finds its strongest
imagery in the coast and people who endure there, he spent the largest part of
an active academic and political career in other places. Through great and
individual effort, he had escaped the village to a world of universities, state and
national politics, to friendships and alliances. Yet, in spirit, he was forever the
product of the rich coloration of the seacoast village of his
youth. This ambivalence was part of the heritage he passed on to his sons:
eternal motion of an inter-tidal zone, and, at the same time, a need to spread
out on the larger canvas, engage with a larger polis. "Maine is 'the land of the
Lotus Eaters'," Wilbert would warn us, ". . . for charging the batteries," but
not for staying. Through work, and a willingness to seek out people who could
help him, Wilbert escaped from the lobster trap. But he never forgot those in
the company-owned stone cutting village of his youth, the men and women
who had inherited the wrong end of the stick, his father included. "These were
people who deserved better than they got." A good deal of the
anger of his youth persisted into old age. It gives a cutting edge to the Georgics
and Eclogues of his poetical estate
Maine, and the sound of the rote on ledges, was essential to Wilbert'ssystem, the eternal conflict of sea and rock-bound coast. But I think it must beremembered that though the bulk of Wilbert's poetry finds its strongestimagery in the coast and people who endure there, he spent the largest part ofan active academic and political career in other places. Through great andindividual effort, he had escaped the village to a world of universities, state andnational politics, to friendships and alliances. Yet, in spirit, he was forever theproduct of the rich coloration of the seacoast village of hisyouth. This ambivalence was part of the heritage he passed on to his sons:eternal motion of an inter-tidal zone, and, at the same time, a need to spreadout on the larger canvas, engage with a larger polis. "Maine is 'the land of theLotus Eaters'," Wilbert would warn us, ". . . for charging the batteries," butnot for staying. Through work, and a willingness to seek out people who couldhelp him, Wilbert escaped from the lobster trap. But he never forgot those inthe company-owned stone cutting village of his youth, the men and womenwho had inherited the wrong end of the stick, his father included. "These werepeople who deserved better than they got." A good deal of theanger of his youth persisted into old age. It gives a cutting edge to the Georgicsand Eclogues of his poetical estate
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