Page:The South Atlantic Quarterly, Volume 17.djvu/180

156 Barnett is descended from a family of preachers, his paternal grandfather having also been a Methodist minister. A further examination of his ancestry shows that he is of mingled English and French blood. He received his early education in the schools of Florida, after which he was graduated from Emory College, Oxford, Georgia, with the A. B. degree. With the exception of about five years spent in comparatively brief stays in Georgia, North Carolina, Colorado and New York, Mr. Barnett has spent the remaining twenty-three years of his life in Florida. He is now residing with his parents in Clearwater, Florida, where his father is pastor of the Methodist church. From this biographical data it may be seen that Mr. Barnett is a Floridian by both nativity and long association. The dominant local influence in his life is, therefore, Floridian. It is, then, not remarkable that there is in his verse the manifestation of a rather distinct Floridian influence. But Mr. Barnett is not merely a local poet. His work has a breadth that raises it above local influences and makes it significant of the contribution that the younger poets of the nation are making to American literature today. Yet it should be remembered that his poems of places include some of the best verse that has been written upon Florida. In this brief and incomplete appraisal of his verse, consideration is to be given, first, to these local poems; second, to the remainder of his published work; third, to a small portion of his verse hitherto unpublished.

In the poet's initial volume, "The Roof of the World," one discovers a number of poems that deal more or less intimately with places and scenes in Florida, or with Floridian motives. Among these are "Tampa Bay," "South of Tampa," "Sunset on Lake Howard," "The St. John's River," and "April Bloom." In the lines of the first of these poems, "Tampa Bay," there pulsates the wild, restless beauty of the Gulf of Mexico and the tropic seas. The Gulf is compared to a mother lion, Tampa Bay to a cub. There is something big and elemental in the poet's conception here, and one discovers a strong ballad-like movement in such passages as these: