and knew I'd fish for a daughter. have that patently bizarre quality that Rolfe Humphries satirizes in his line about the cuspidors spitting at the neon morning.

When Lorca is successful, though, he achieves a surpassing clarity of expression through a concentrated effort to open all his senses wide and yet his impressions bypass his mind and go right to his pen; it is a clarity that a weaker spirit might have intellectualized into obscurity. His best moments come when he makes true what the soon-to-depart Mr. Honig has said of him--"(Lorca) is above all a realistic sensualist who must have the secret of light bare."

Some Bad Metaphors

None of the poems in the book is entirely satisfactory; he can, and does, clothe the finest feeling in the crudest language, and ruins the perfection of a poem, inserting some unspeakably bad metaphor, or one that has meaning only for himself. They are not his best poems, but some are very good.

And the translation is good enough for real enjoyment of this unusual book of poems; and the poems themselves are good enough to make some Americans wonder why

... the white-suited man goes his way with no thought of the corn-tassel's

mystery,

with no thought of the birth cry. Their meaning may assume an increasing importance in a city and a nation grown too big too fast, and too ugly