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important thing for a writer who has alreadymade so high a place for herself''.^"Judith Wright's fifth volume was Birds(1962). F. H. Mares in The Australian BookReview said: "These are beautifully wroughtsmaU poems: I had hoped for a great dealmore, and I fear a withdrawal here.''^' Thereis a tendency, it seems, for the contemporaryreviewer to anticipate what the writer may donext and to be disappointed when his ownanticipation is not fulfilled. It was timely thereforethat these five volumes should be followedby two selections, each made by the poet herself,so that we could get the flavour of herwork as a whole up to that point. The first ofthese was in Angus & Robertson's AustralianPoets series and appeared in 1963, to be followedby a rather fuller selection, Five Senses, in1964. Both contained some poems under theheading of "The Forest" not previously publishedin book form, of which more will besaid presently.This then was the position as far as somecritics and reviewers saw it up to the publicationof her latest volume of new work. TheOther Half. It was clear that all were agreedthat Judith Wright was a poet of considerablestature, but not all were prepared to concedethat her genius had not sometimes faltered inher six published volumes (seven, if we count"The Forest" poems which occur for the firsttime in the two volumes of selections).I have now spent some weeks reading atleisure Judith Wright's entire published poemsin an attempt to distil from them some unifyingessence. When met again after many years,a number of poems in her early volumesassumed, for me, the classic quality of memorableness.What I wish to convey by this is thatapparently these poems had at earlier readingsentered into my subconscious to a degree Ihad not realized. Others familiar with thisauthor's work, attempting a similar exercisein re-acquaintance, would no doubt share thisexperience and be prepared to name furtherpoems which produced a similar effect onthem. Among those which came to me in there-reading with the force and familiarity ofold and well-tried companions were "Nigger'sLeap: New England", "BuUocky" and "Southof my Days" from the first volume, "Womanto Man", "Woman's Song", "Woman to Child"and "Lost Child" from the second, "Birds"and "Old House" from the third, and the titlepoem from the fourth. There were others wherethe impact of familiarity was also present butto a lesser degree. This is a very subjective approachand mere memorableness for any individualis not necessarily a virtue. When it iscoupled with the undoubted quality which suchpoems possess and when it is shared with agreat number of other readers—as I believe istrue of Judith Wright's work—it means a greatdeal.One of the strongest impressions I receivedwas the relationship much of her work bearsto the time it was written. This can be a disadvantage;it can make for ephemeral workif the poet is too closely a victim of her time.But Judith Wright manages to transcend theephemeral where many a lesser poet has beenengulfed by it. This is well illustrated by themood of most of the poems in The MovingImage. This was published in 1946, but allthe poems except one are grouped under theheading: Poems, 1940-1944; that is, they werewritten during World War II. The title poemis undated, but it could be regarded as a warpoemwith its overtones of destruction, althoughit is much more than that in its fullimplications.World War II was a time when Australia'ssurvival as a nation in the Pacific received itsfirst full challenge and this evoked a great dealof inward-looking. We might not last long, thetime seemed to say. What are we? How farhave we come? The year before the outbreakof war had seen the announcement of theJindyworobak manifesto by Rex Ingamellswho gathered around him a group of nationalisticpoets whose talents (many of themlimited) drew also upon this inward-lookingfostered by the threat to survival. Writers inthis group over-stressed background and localcolour, and aroused a good deal of hostilityin certain quarters. Judith Wright was neverclose to the movement, but when asked by itsfounder to contribute to a review of its achievementsat the end of 10 years she offered acomment that was untouched by the rancourthat coloured the criticisms of many others."The Russian, the English, the Norwegianwriter can concentrate his attention on thesocial or psychological problem in hand; hisbackground is already filled in, taken forgranted" she wrote in an article called Perspective."But the Australian background,WESTERLY, No. 1, MARCH, 1968 43