Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
John McAuliffeBill Manhire in Conversation with John McAuliffe
(PN Review 259)
Patricia CraigVal Warner: A Reminiscence
(PN Review 259)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
Christopher MiddletonNotes on a Viking Prow
(PN Review 10)
Next Issue Gwyneth Lewis ‘Spiderings’ Ian Thomson ‘Fires were started: Tallinn, 1944’ Adrian May ‘Traditionalism and Tradition’ Judith Herzberg ‘Poems’ translated by Margitt Lehbert Horatio Morpurgo ‘What is a Book?’
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
Reader Survey
PN Review Substack

This poem is taken from PN Review 210, Volume 39 Number 4, March - April 2013.

Scott's Last Tape David M. Katz
I
You hear a tape where Scott Fitzgerald reads
Keats's Nightingale, plus other verse.
The tape's cut off before the poem ends,
And Scott seems arch and passive, slouching back
In a Morris chair, a smoke in his languid hand.
He must maintain some silence now, or the tape
Must, for that is what the moment needs:
A pause in California, nineteen-forty.
Into this interlude there pours the past
Of East Long Island, just before a plash
Of sound on Sound first fell upon an ear.


II
The ode is badly memorized, as though
Of Lethe Scott had drunk, and Keats's youth
Stands 'paper-thin,' not 'spectre-thin' and 'sun-
Burnt mirth' blurs into 'sun-beam mirth.'
Beauty shades her 'lustrous eyes' and simply
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image