Not much less than a hundred years ago a certain baseball game played somewhere in these United States resulted in a score of 211 to 189. A great deal has happened to the great national pastime since then. It has, of course, become a highly efficient business, paying huge salaries, and earning enormous profits. It still lives--dollar for dollar, it is stronger than ever, in spite of several scandals, in spite of the commercialism that saddens local patriotism by swapping the players around as if they were second-hand automobiles. But it is no longer the big American sport.
The first two volumes of the official biography of Woodrow Wilson are now before the public: the first deals with Wilson's early life up to the time of his going to Princeton as a professor, and the second takes him up to his resignation as president of Princeton. Mr.
SIR: Your provocative editorial entitled, significantly, "Dictating to the Future," is, we believe, the first frank utterance on the part of the New Republic in relation to the most momentous question in the contemporary world, to wit, the realistic relation between the logic of class struggle and the logic of patriotic nationalism. We wish to invite your thoughtful consideration (and therefore that of American liberals in general) to the following crucial questions, which are stated in question form because that is the simplest way of condensing a vast amount of material into brief compass.
IN the September issue of the American Mercury, George Jean Nathan has written six pages of "Notes on the Movies"; they are important, but not exactly in the way Mr. Nathan may think they are.
Muses and fetishes, particular And patronizing gods, myths and those men That to past darkness have been many a star. Seeing how our encumbered regimen Has all our pride and heart, have given a wide Berth to the corners of our chosen field And left us to our busy heart and pride. Left us the frenzy which we chose for shield. Stretch out no arms, look with no sorry eyes Into their world, we being given to this. Black steel, piled stone and the rigidities That keep you safe your mouth should sweeten to kiss. This nation is a sea bird that, still-born Into the violence of a rising sea, Seems to b
I can hold my two hands anywhere Around a world not really there And call it a world much better than this, But I am not so sure it is Witter Bynner is an American poet and contributor to The New Republic.