Peoria, Tazewell, And Woodford: Here, There & Everywhere

Poems by C.S. Lewis edited by Walter Hooper reviewed by Mike Foster

Poems by C. S. Lewis; edited by Walter Hooper, reviewed by Mike Foster.


Perhaps none of G.K. Chesterton’s cheerleaders were more influential than C.S. Lewis, who championed Chesterton fluently and frequently throughout his career as a literary critic, fantasy novelist, and Christian apologist.

Surprised by Joy, Lewis’ intellectual autobiography, describes how his first encounter with Chesterton’s essays in 1918, when he was 19 in army hospital in France, conquered him despite “my pessimism, my atheism, and my hatred of sentiment.”

In 1996, George Sayer, author of the best Lewis biography, Jack, told me that Lewis “admired Chesterton immensely and often spoke of him. He owed a great deal to Orthodoxy and The Everlasting Man. He thought there was some great poetry.”

Unsurprisingly, then, the cadences and content  of the verse in this collection, published in 1964, a year after Lewis’ death, sometimes evoke the rhythms and rationales of the Bard of Beaconsfield, especially the poems in “A Backward Glance,” the second section.

The sarcastic “Evolutionary Hymn,” “Prelude to Space,” and “Science-Fiction Cradlesong” (“From prison, in a prison, we fly; There’s no way into the sky.”) manifest mistrust of modernism.  Lewis upbraids sex-obsessed biographers and critics in “Odora Canum Vis”:

As those who’ve seen no lions must revere

A bull for Pan’s fortissimo, or those

Who never tasted wine will value beer

Too highly, so the smut-hound, since he knows

Neither God, hunger, thought, nor battle, must

Of course hold disproportioned views on lust.


Less curmudgeonly and more creative is “The Future of Forestry,” which begins:

How will the legend of the age of trees,

Feel, when the last tree falls in England?

When the concrete spreads and the town conquers

The country’s heart; when contraceptive

Tarmac’s laid where farm has faded,

Tramline flows where slept a hamlet,

And shop-fronts, blazing without a stop from

Dover to Wrath, have glazed us over?

Simplest tales will then bewilder

The questioning children, ‘What was a chestnut?

Say what it means to climb a Beanstalk.

Tell me, grandfather, what an elm is.

What was Autumn? They never taught us.’


Later poems have a sharp sadness, a penitential pain, like “Joys That Sting” or “Relapse”:

Out of the wound we pluck

The shrapnel. Thorns we squeeze

Out of the hand. Even poison forth we suck

And after pain have ease.


But images that grow

Within the soul have life

Like cancer and, often cut, live on below,

The deepest of the knife.


The dozen charming lines of “The Nativity” have Lewis seeing himself in the beasts witnessing Christ’s birth:

Among the sheep (I like a sheep have strayed)

I watch the manger where my Lord is laid;

Oh that my baa-ing nature would win thence

Some wooly innocence!


At book’s end, Lewis’ poetry scales heights and plumbs depths that suggest his experience of the surprising love and sad loss of Joy Davidman Lewis, his late-life wife. “Love’s As Warm As Tears,” “Five Sonnets,” “The Apologist’s Evening Prayer,” and “After Prayers, Lie Cold” have a soft stoicism that brightens, rather than dims, the heartbreak they chronicle.

The seventeen fragmentary “Epigrams And Epitaphs” that comprise this volume’s last five pages are candles flickering in the de profundis darkness:


She was beautifully, delicately made

So small, so unafraid

Till the bomb came.

Bombs are the same,

Beautifully, delicately made.




No, the world will not break,

Time will not stop.

Do not for the dregs mistake

The first bitter drop


When first the collar galls

Tired horses know

Stable’s not near. Still falls

The whip. There’s far to go.


These bereft final poems may be Lewis’ best.


As with love and grace, with poetry, it’s far, far better late than never.





One comment on “Poems by C.S. Lewis edited by Walter Hooper reviewed by Mike Foster

  1. John Moffatt
    February 20, 2016

    I like The Future of Forestry.
    Bending is better than breaking.
    Works for people too.


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