Francis, Robert (Contemporary Literary Criticism)
Francis, Robert 1901–
Francis is an American poet. An artist of unique gifts, he says of his own style that it is "neither avant-garde nor traditional." His poetry is generally lyrical and has often been compared to that of Robert Frost, although many critics find this a rather simplistic comparison. The setting of his poetry is most often, rural, reflecting a life spent in a solitary, indeed Thoreau-like, existence. This lifestyle has contributed to Francis's relative obscurity and it is only in his later years that he has received his well-deserved recognition. (See also Contemporary Authors, Vols. 1-4, rev. ed.)
No literary echoes, no awkwardness, no bewilderment clearly mark Robert Francis's "Stand With Me Here," as poems of youth; but none the less it is immediately apparent that they reflect a boy's will and a young man's thoughts. Strangely there is nothing here adventurous, curious, impatient, avid for life, but rather as though Santayana's last Puritan were writing verse, there is tranquility, appreciation of old ways and simple pleasures, a strict moral sense, and a conscientious craftsman's attitude toward balance, order and good form.
Pastoral New England has become a tradition in American literature…. Robert Francis has tried his hand with skill at the traditional themes. Apple picking, haying,...
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WILLIAM ROSE BENÉT
A slight book in bulk is Robert Francis's "Stand With Me Here" … but I have found a distinct person in it. He is another of our New Englanders, terse and direct….
It would be inequitable to lay too great emphasis on this volume; but, in expectation of finding little, in reality I found much. Those who are fond of the lonely New England country world will find its flavor here, will discover dark comfort in these unobtrusive verses.
William Rose Benét, "The Phoenix Nest," in The Saturday Review of Literature (copyright © 1936 by Saturday Review; all rights reserved; reprinted by permission), Vol. 14,...
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"The Sound I Listened For" is all clear sound, precise, honest, unequivocal. Robert Francis has a gift for seeing minutiae which are anything but trivial. In this he reminds the reader of his more illustrious forerunners, especially of one whose background is contiguous. It is nothing against Robert Francis that he often resembles Robert Frost. But, though he sometimes chooses the same landscape, he should avoid using the same language. "True North," "Statement," and "The Wasp"—to name only three—read like poems that Frost had been writing and had not yet decided to print. They are admirably neat, they are playfully philosophical, they blend observation with imagination. But we know who wrote them first. (p. 345)...
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The Orb Weaver is Robert Francis's fifth book of poems. The attitude, style and tone are much the same as they were in 1938. His world is rural New England, but not a New England which has undergone any significant changes during the past twenty-five years. It is a world of personal observations made within a quiet, peaceful, static environment walled off from the loud, blaring events of Mr. Auden's "age of anxiety."
Though Mr. Francis lacks the gritty muscularity of Robert Frost, he can stand side by side with the elder poet as an exponent of pantheistic serenity. (p. 109)
Mr. Francis seems to favor a loose blank verse, a "Freedom that flows in form and still is free" is...
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With his mind clearly at pains to confront and express them, Robert Francis delights in and is disturbed by the incongruities of life. In Dog-Day Night the speaker, realising that the objects of love are self-interested and free, is pained by the vanity of selfless love. Man must look for and never find his identity (The Spy), strain but fail to achieve his aims, and experience the elation and despair of recognizing this truth (The Rock Climbers). Moreover man is a construct of belief and scepticism, freedom and restriction, communion and loneliness, for which polarities he is both praised and damned, distinguished and forgotten (Epitaph). The mind separates by means of symbols the amoral...
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Autobiographical writings are supposed to be spectacular these days, a thrill a page…. But I know that kind of thing won't do for the autobiography of Robert Francis…. [Rather, The Trouble with Francis invites comparison with] Walden, Edwin Muir's An Autobiography, Nadezha Mandelstam's Hope Against Hope. Like them it uses one life, one set of experiences, as a way of investigating how an individual existence can gain coherence, shape, and meaning under social circumstances that are hostile or indifferent; and like them it succeeds through a scrupulous honesty that is especially wary of tidal waving. The books I have mentioned could be called low-key, but they all turn out to be...
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The verse of Robert Francis is like a small, sun-warmed stone, smooth to the touch, pleasant to handle, and as you hold it, releasing a hidden inner warmth.
[In Like Ghosts of Eagles] he writes of mountain and water, of permanence and change, of what it is to forget and what it is to remember. Francis is a poet of seasons, the seasons men keep in their comings and goings over the face of the earth.
He takes the long view, the focus of his camera eye being set just short of infinity….
He is sober but not somber, delighting to play the games language plays with us—"The bulldozer / bulls by day / And dozes by night. / Would that the dulldozer / Dozed all...
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[Robert Francis's Collected Poems exhibits] clearly the achievement of an exceptional, if infrequently honored, craftsman….
Francis's poems, like the athletes he often writes about and whose superior form he imitates, are firm, clean, and graceful. In "Pitcher," one of his best-known poems, Francis might be describing himself: "He / Throws to be a moment misunderstood. / Yet not too much. Not errant, arrant, wild, / But every seeming aberration willed. /"…
There is often a sense of the inevitability of fate in these poems, events or lives working themselves out and revealing what has to be. Elemental questions are posed with a kind of sureness, the speaker confident, yet...
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September, 1976, marked the publication of the Collected Poems of an American poet who at seventy-six has written quietly over the past half-century a body of poems which deserves to be celebrated. The poet is Robert Francis. His career was long characterized by a lack of recognition—Robert Frost called him America's "best neglected poet"—and even after the publication of The Orb Weaver by Wesleyan in 1960 and Come Out Into the Sun by the University of Massachusetts in 1968 helped change this situation to some degree, his work has continued to be omitted from most of the anthologies which have tried to represent the best contemporary American poetry. It seems to me that any sampling of "the...
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No doubt a sense of fulfillment attaches to any poet's Collected Poems. In the case of Robert Francis, the volume carries a sense not merely of fulfillment but of vindication. One of our most knowing, skilled, and dedicated poets has survived decades of critical indifference to find himself, in his old age, possessed of a secure and even flowering reputation. (p. 106)
Robert B. Shaw, "Coming Out into the Sun," in Poetry (© 1977 by The Modern Poetry Association; reprinted by permission of the Editor of Poetry), Vol. CXXXI, No. 2, November, 1977, pp. 106-10.
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Robert Francis's A Certain Distance is an ill-conceived project. In his introductory remarks, Francis refers to the "erotic impulse" which has prompted artists, through the ages to concentrate on the female form in their paintings and poems. He avers that the same impulse has led him to write this group of poem-pictures of the male form. While I can sympathize with the motive and the interest, it seems to me that Francis is, perhaps, working out of a tradition which dooms his project to just the embarrassing sentimentality and simpering obliquity which characterize this volume. There have been volumes by individuals, and anthologies as well, of homoerotic poems. None has yet risen above maudlin...
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Francis has, if anything, written more impressively as he has grown older. His first volume, Stand With Me Here (1936), appeared when he was thirty-five …, and his serene, detached style was already formed. He has published slowly—eight books in forty years. He has grown slowly.
What sticks in the memory about Francis is his quiet ebullience, his understated Yankee wit. Take, for instance, "Pitcher," one of several gems about baseball:
His art is eccentricity, his aim
How not to hit the mark he seems to aim at,
His passion how to avoid the obvious,
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Francis, Robert (Poetry Criticism)
Robert Francis 1901-1987
American poet, essayist, and novelist.
Francis may be thought of as a poet's poet: he has been much celebrated by fellow poets, but little acknowledged by literary critics and the reading public. His poetry is frequently compared to that of Emily Dickinson and Robert Frost, and his lifestyle and sensibilities to those of Henry David Thoreau. Francis's work is characterized by short poems, simple and elegant in form, written in plain, colloquial speech, and filled with concise, vivid descriptions of concrete objects from nature.
Robert Churchhill Francis was born on August 12, 1901, in Upland, Pennsylvania to Ebenezer and Ida May Allen Francis. He graduated from Harvard with a bachelor's degree in 1923 and a master's degree in education in 1926. Shortly thereafter he moved to Amherst, Massachusetts, where he taught high school for a year before devoting himself full-time to writing poetry. Throughout most of his adult life Francis lived very simply on the meager income from his poetry, in a home he built himself and named Fort Juniper, in the woods on the outskirts of Amherst. Francis's self-imposed isolation and simplicity has often been compared to that of Thoreau, who wrote Walden based on his experiences living in a small cabin in the wilderness of Massachusetts in the mid-nineteenth century. As a young poet Francis met Frost, who became his mentor and a major influence on his writing. In addition to writing poetry, Francis occasionally taught at summer writers' workshops and conferences, and lectured at various universities around the country, including Harvard and Tufts, as well as the American University in Beirut, Lebanon. From 1957 to 1958 Francis lived in Rome, on the Prix de Rome fellowship of the American Academy of Arts and Letters. In 1974 the University of Massachusetts Press established the Juniper Prize in his honor, and he received a fellowship award from the Academy of American Poets in 1984. Francis died on July 13, 1987, in Northampton, Massachusetts.
Francis's first volume of poetry, Stand With Me Here (1936), was well received as a promising work of lyrical beauty. Valhalla and Other Poems (1938) features “Valhalla,” a long narrative poem about a family who moves to Vermont, seeking a better life through proximity to nature. The Sound I Listened For (1944) speaks of the New England countryside. The Face against the Glass (1950), The Orb Weaver (1960),Come Out into the Sun (1965), and Like Ghosts of Eagles (1974), continue Francis's concern with the simple beauty of nature, as captured through concise, concrete description, and the musical qualities of plain, everyday language. In addition to volumes of poetry, Francis wrote a novel, We Fly Away (1948), a collection of essays, The Satirical Rogue on Poetry (1968), and an autobiography, The Trouble with Francis (1971).
Francis was much admired by his peers. Robert Frost considered him America's “best neglected poet,” and Donald Hall called him “a modern American classic.” Such supporters have often lamented that Francis has not received greater attention from critics, and that his poems are often excluded from major anthologies of American poetry. Those who have reviewed his work, however, have been almost uniformly enthusiastic about it. As a New England nature poet, Francis has often been compared to Frost, Dickinson, and Thoreau. Like Frost, Jack Lindeman has observed, Francis “is a type of bucolic philosopher … who translates the wisdom of nature into a means for achieving human contentment.” His poems have been admired for their use of colloquial language and concrete images which display an apparent simplicity that, upon closer examination, reveal a hidden depth and profundity. Critics have frequently praised Francis's craftsmanship, pointing to the formal elegance of his poetry; they add, however, that his finest pieces transcend mere craft, and possess a magical quality not explicable through formal analyses. As David Young has observed, “When one has pointed out the technical mastery of a Francis poem, one has only partly accounted for its effectiveness. There's a mysterious something beyond technique in his best poems.”
Stand With Me Here 1936
Valhalla and Other Poems 1938
The Sound I Listened For 1944
The Face against the Glass 1950
The Orb Weaver 1960
Come Out into the Sun: Poems New and Selected 1965
Like Ghosts of Eagles 1974
Robert Francis: Collected Poems, 1936-1976 1976
We Fly Away (novel) 1948
The Satirical Rogue on Poetry (essays) 1968
The Trouble with Francis (autobiography) 1971
SOURCE: A review of Valhalla and Other Poems, in The New York Times Book Review, October 23, 1938, p. 10.
[In the following review, Morton praises Francis's “Valhalla” as a narrative poem on the timeless theme of “a family seeking its heaven on earth.” He comments that, in the Depression era, this theme is particularly poignant.]
The second book of a new poet is a crucial phenomenon—for poet, publisher and reader. Those who took special delight in Robert Francis's Stand With Me Here, two years ago, need have no misgivings about opening Valhalla. The first book was something more than promising; the second carries the achievement farther—and in a new direction. Valhalla is narrative, with narrative's first requisite, a good story. In any period of the world's affairs the vicissitudes of a family seeking its heaven on earth so deliberately, so persistently, so thoughtfully, would be provocative reading. At the moment of Valhalla's publication the theme has an interest more than ordinarily acute. The beauty is in the passion that informs the quest, in the delicate and profound feeling that attends its incidents, and in the lyrical intensity of the writing.
The line that the narrative follows is direct enough. John and Edith, with their children, have moved to a hill farm in Vermont, on the adventure of shaping life toward its greatest beauty...
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SOURCE: A review of The Orb Weaver, in Christian Science Monitor, Vol. 52, No. 76, February 25, 1960, p. 11.
[In the following review, Booth offers a favorable assessment of The Orb Weaver, comparing Francis to Emily Dickinson.]
Robert Francis is clearly “The Orb Weaver” of his own poems, thick as they are with “The art, the craftsmanship, the cunning. / The patience, the self-control, the waiting. / The sudden dart and the needled poison” of words woven to net both sound and sense.
The poems invite a reader in to share what's common enough. “Squash in Blossom,” “Tomatoes,” or “Waxwings”; but like that other Amherst...
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SOURCE: “Three Poets,” in Poetry, Vol. 97, No. 2, November, 1960, pp. 109-10.
[In the following excerpt, Lindeman offers a favorable review of Francis's The Orb Weaver, comparing the poet to Robert Frost.]
The Orb Weaver is Robert Francis's fifth book of poems. The attitude, style and tone are much the same as they were in 1938. His world is rural New England, but not a New England which has undergone any significant changes during the past twenty-five years. It is a world of personal observations made within a quiet, peaceful, static environment walled off from the loud, blaring events of Mr. Auden's “age of anxiety.”
(The entire section is 406 words.)
SOURCE: A review of Come Out into the Sun, in Antioch Review, Vol. 26, No. 2, Summer, 1966, pp. 276-277.
[In the following review, Allen provides a favorable assessment of Francis's Come Out into the Sun, expressing the opinion that Francis deserves a wider audience for his poetry.]
Another New Englander, Robert Francis, escaped the past long ago. His new and selected poems confirm his stature. Francis is a poet to be read and reread, a poet who shapes his lines to perfect forms, graceful, unforced balances. Listen to him in “Hogwash”:
What beside sports and flowers could you find To praise better than the American language?...
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SOURCE: “Faith and Form: Some American Poetry of 1976,” in Sewanee Review, Vol. 85, No. 3, July, 1977, pp. 537-38.
[In the following review, Ramsey offers a favorable assessment of Francis's Collected Poems, pointing to the many good and “extremely good” poems in the collection.]
Robert Francis's Collected Poems 1936-1976 presents us with a career to be admired, to be enjoyed, to be examined with careful respect. Francis is almost infallibly a good poet, at ease with the graces of the iambic line, a clear eye looking at nature, a man quietly stoic, or rejoicing, or loving, or amused. Robert Frost is a strong influence, though Francis has tempered...
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SOURCE: “Two Poets Named Robert,” in Ohio Review, Vol. 18, No. 3, Fall, 1977, pp. 110-25.
[In the following excerpt, Hall compares the praise and recognition heaped upon the poet Robert Lowell with the undeserved neglect of Francis by literary critics. Hall offers a favorable assessment of Francis's Collected Poems.]
In 1976 Robert Lowell published his Selected Poems, two hundred and thirty-eight pages taken from Lord Weary's Castle, The Mills of the Kavanaughs, Life Studies, For the Union Dead, Near the Ocean, Notebooks, Notebook, History, For Lizzie and Harriet, and The Dolphin. Four of the last five volumes involve duplication, because...
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SOURCE: “Moving Unnoticed: Notes on Robert Francis's Poetry,” in The Hollins Critic, Vol. 14, No. 4, October, 1977, pp. 1-12.
[In the following essay, Nelson provides an overview of the central themes and stylistic elements of Francis's poetry.]
September, 1976, marked the publication of the Collected Poems of an American poet who at seventy-six has written quietly over the past half-century a body of poems which deserves to be celebrated. The poet is Robert Francis. His career was long characterized by a lack of recognition—Robert Frost called him America's “best neglected poet”—and even after the publication of The Orb...
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SOURCE: “Permitting Craft,” in Field, No. 25, Fall, 1981, pp. 20-2.
[In the following essay, Turner examines Francis's “Silent Poem,” not for his “craftmanship”—which has been thoroughly explored by other critics—but for the subtle qualities of the poem which go beyond the mere “craft” of poetry.]
backroad leafmold stonewall chipmunk underbrush grapevine woodchuck shadblow
woodsmoke cowbarn honeysuckle woodpile...
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SOURCE: “Francis Reading and Reading Francis,” in Field, No. 25, Fall, 1981, pp. 28-30.
[In the following essay, Walker discusses “Remind Me of Apples” as an example of Francis's skills as a poet.]
“REMIND ME OF APPLES”
When the cicada celebrates the heat, Intoning that tomorrow and today Are only yesterday with the same dust To dust on plantain and on roadside yarrow— Remind me, someone, of the apples coming, Cold in the dew of deep October grass, A prophecy of snow in their white flesh.
In the long haze of dog days, or by night When thunder growls and prowls but will not go Or come, I lose the memory...
(The entire section is 1038 words.)
SOURCE: “The Excellence of ‘Excellence,’” in Field, No. 25, Fall, 1981, pp. 15-18.
[In the following essay, Wallace discusses the poem “Excellence” as an example of the formal elements of Francis's poetry which make his works “magical.”]
Excellence is millimeters and not miles. From poor to good is great. From good to best is small. From almost best to best sometimes not measurable. The man who leaps the highest leaps perhaps an inch Above the runner-up. How glorious that inch And that split-second longer in the air before the fall.
In an era of the Avant-Avant-Garde, Robert Francis,...
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SOURCE: “On Robert Francis' ‘Sheep,’” in Field, No. 25, Fall, 1981, pp. 23-5.
[In the following essay, Wilbur discusses Francis's poem “Sheep” in terms of its simple formal elements, as well as its more profound implications.]
From where I stand the sheep stand still As stones against the stony hill.
The stones are gray And so are they.
And both are weatherworn and round, Leading the eye back to the ground.
Two mingled flocks— The sheep, the rocks.
And still no sheep stirs from its place Or lifts its Babylonian face.
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SOURCE: “Robert Francis and the Bluejay,” in Field, No. 25, Fall, 1981, pp. 8-11.
[In the following essay, Young discusses Francis's poem “Bluejay” in terms of its formal and thematic elements.]
So bandit-eyed, so undovelike a bird to be my pastoral father's favorite— skulker and blusterer whose every arrival is a raid.
Love made the bird no gentler nor him who loved less gentle. Still, still the wild blue feather brings my mild father.
It is a troublesome fact that Robert Francis, at the age of 80, is still so little known. His modest and retired life near Amherst,...
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SOURCE: “Color, Energy, Action,” in Sewanee Review, Vol. 102, No. 1, January, 1994, pp. xi-xiii.
[In the following review, Gillmann provides a favorable assessment of Francis's collection Late Fire, Late Snow.]
Before opening this new volume of poems by a man who many believe was one of America's finest poets when he died in 1987, the reader might want to look at the back of the dustjacket.
There, in a two by three-and-a-half inch photograph, is the face of Robert Francis, his head angled, staring out at us from behind and between a woman at the left, only a slice of her face and hair revealed, and, to the right, a small part of a furrowed brow...
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SOURCE: “Learning to Hover,” in Twentieth Century Literature, Winter, 1999, Vol. 45, No. 4, p. 534–52.
[In the following essay, Stambuk discusses the influence of Robert Frost on Francis, and compares the works of the two poets.]
In Robert Francis's reminiscence of Robert Frost, A Time to Talk, the entry dated April 4, 1932, contains a poem published the day before in the Springfield Republican and Union. Francis wrote the poem to commemorate Frost's arrival at Amherst. Here are its final stanzas:
Best of all—you've heard?—he comes to stay. This is his home now. He is here for good. To leave us now would be running away. (I too...
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Sherman, Carl E. “‘Man Working’—Profile of Robert Francis.” Book Forum 3, No. 3 (1977): 436-41.
An interview with Francis, at age 75, in his home of Fort Juniper.
Abbe, George. “Glimpses of Robert Francis.” In The Old Century and the New: Essays in Honor of Charles Angoff, edited by Alfred Rosa, pp. 152-85. London: Associated University Presses, 1978.
Relates the course of the critic's personal friendship with Francis over a period in which the poet descended into mental illness and became increasingly isolated.
“The Satirical Rogue...
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