FOREWORD
On the departure for France of my friend and former pupil, Mr. MacLeish, in the Federal service, it became my privilege to prepare his manuscript for publication and see it through the press. In this editorial capacity I have been beset by but one misgiving—the apprehension, namely, that the casual reader might, unless forewarned, read these poems for their lilt and melodic charm alone without ever penetrating beneath their surface. Since this would be a grievous vexation to Mr. MacLeish himself, for in his eyes lyrical tunefulness is far less important than vital underlying idea, I venture to insist upon the intellectual content of his work and to suggest the fundamental conviction animating most of it. Under various symbols he is passionately appealing for the intuitive apprehension of reality as against the baffling limitations of the reason and the senses—as, for example, in "Our Lady of Troy," where the tragedy of Faustus lies in his purblind
