I’m trying to build a moral case for Roy Campbell being totally left out of courses on twentieth century poetry, but knowing nothing about South African politics, and whether or not he is a fascist, I’m struggling. I suppose the fact that his stuff seems much less nationalistic than Kipling’s, and much more about just nature and natural images, makes his total elimination quite striking. I’ve heard that, despite his weird politics, he was hugely anti-apartheid. But it’s not something I know a lot about.
Roy Campbell – The Olive Tree II
Curbed athlete hopeless of the palm,
If in the rising moon he hold,
Discobolos, a quoit of gold,
Caught in his gusty sweep of arm,
Or if he loom against the dawn,
The circle where he takes his run
To hurl the discus of the sun
Is by his own dark shadow drawn:
The strict arena of the game
Where endless effort is denied
More room for victory or pride
Than what he covers with his shame.
Squidditas 