Sarah Binks

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23easy delivery which marks the master of technique, Sarah's conceptions were always quick, ana her emotional responses immediate. None of those qualities which mark the poetess at her greatest were leaking except experience. That she was already aware of her genius and at the same time conscious of her limitations she reveals in thoua beautiful lines, THE GENIUS, a. Little gem of self-revelation.THE GENIUS.I'm a genius, a genius, What more can I desire, I toot upon my little flute, And twang upon my lyre;I dabble in oil paint, In cinnebar and ochre, All night I am dissipated, And play poker.In my little book, in my little book, I write verses , Sometimes they dont rhyme � Curses!Sarah was finding herself. That unsureness, "Sometimes they dont rhyme, curses," was to leave her at this stage. It is no exaggeration to say that technically she reached her full perfection during the poems of the patriotic period. One need only compare the PARSON'S PATCH, written in the early fall, with ODE TO SPRING, written thefollowing March to appreciate the tremenduous strides she had made;THE PARSON'S PATCHPathetic patch, a turnip or two, A onion, a lettuce, a handfull of maize, A sprig of parsley, and that is all That meets our gaze.Here we can see with what loving care,Poked and patted by the parson's hand, They flourished in their meek mild way, Just as the parson had.
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24And now as we turn from the parson's patch, Let us turn our eyes inwards, And after a few minutes contemplation, The moral will be visible.Here we have already the Sarah we have learned to love � sweetly lyrical, deeply moralizing. But her touch is unsure. "A onion, a lettuce" is weak, some of the lines do not quite scan, and her rhyming of "visible" with "contemplation" is not in the best traditions of Saskatchewan literature. But hearken to Sarah six months later;ODE TO SPRING.*Tis not for long the bird shall creep Beneath a pile of mouldy straw; Eftsoons, not long the chill winds sweep, And powdered snow-bank four feet deep, Pile up, pile up, in roundish heap: "For spring is coming with its mirth, And breezy breath of balmy warmth, . And burbank, bobolink, and snearth,* Shall banish winter's chill and dearth, And luscious joy shall fill the earth.The poem created a furore when it first appeared. The editor of THE HORSEBREEDER'S GAZETTE who finally accepted it for publication gave it a prominence it so richly deserved. Moreover it struck a deeply sympathetic chord in the hearts of the Saskatchewan People. It had been a backward spring. The roads were blocked, and the home-made thermometers were still registering nightly low temperatures of sixty-eight to seventy-five below zero. Suddenly the voice of Sarah, Sarah Binks, the Sweet Songstress, burst upon them with its message of hope and cheer. Spring was coming; the burbank would be back and the return of the snearth was imminent.* It is interesting to note here that this in the first recorded instance of the appearance of the snearth in Saskatchewan. Sarahwas always a keen observer of nature.
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25No wonder Saskatchewan took her to its broad, flat bosom. Two weeks later a delayed Chinook melted the Saskatchewan snows and Sarah awoke to find herself, if not exactly famous, at least something of a local celebrity.It is difficult, if not impossible, to estimate the effect which the success of ODE TO SPRING must have bad upon the young poetess. The reception accorded THE PARSON'S PATCH had been, if not exactly cold, at least disappointing from Sarah's point ofview. The Hitching POST, where it first appeared, accepted poetical contributions only when accompanied by six fully paid up subscriptions, and the selling of these had tended to lessen Sarah's confidence in herself and in her own poetic ability. Moreover, when finally published it had been wedged in between the obituary notices and the half page advertisement of a recently discovered cure for harness galls and spavin. But with the appearance of THE ODE Sarah's confidence returned. Letters of congratulation poured in from Ole and Mathilda, and the editor of THE FERTILIZER personally sent her a form letter calling attention to the fact that his columns were open to all subscribers.It has been said that Mathilda served rather as a foil and as an occasion for Sarah's poems than as an actual source of inspiration. This is true in a modified sense. Mathilda herself was not one to inspire a lyrical outburst. It is true that she had that singularly soulful and far-away expression that people whoare slightly cross-eyed so often have. She was teeming with health and the pink of the early ripe tomato was In her cheeks. But her features were slightly out of drawing, and she was always, and is still said to be somewhat large for her age. She tended consequently
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26to be sluggish in her movements, or it may have been that Sarah, always fleet of foot, merely so regarded her, for she herself was lesseager to be caught when they played vith Oie the simple games of "Auntie, Ante up!" or, "catch-as-catch-can," between the barns and the buggy-shed on Sunday afternoons. However, Mathilda's precocity of size tended towards precosity of mind in some directions, and Sarah found her friend, if not an object of spiritual and sylph-like beauty, at least one of fascinating and absorbing interest. Probably in the end she knew more about Mathilda than Mathilda knew about herself; certainly with Ole's assistance, she knew more abort Mathilda than the latter ever suspected. And Mathilda admired Sarah and hung upon her every word, but the somewhat Johnson-Boswellian friendship was in reverse English, and it was Sarah, in this case, who immortalised her admirer in that group or suite of poems which has come to be known as "The Grizzlykick Symphony."It is not within the scope of this volume to make a detailed analysis of the Grizzlykiok suite of poems. So much has been said and so much has been written about this collection of sweetly tender love lyrics, that anything the Authors can add must necessarily beregarded as superfluous. Miss Rosalind Drool* in particular has made the greatest contribution to the understanding and appreciation of the Grizzlykick Symphony. But no serious studyof the life and works of Sarah Binks can ever be complete withoutsome consideration of the throbbing, pulsating, almost nauseatingbeauty which permeates every line and letter of this famous group,and to the throbbing, pulsating circumstances which brought themabout.* R. Drool - "The Prairie Crocus and the Passion Flower" -Bunnyhooks Ltd. 1936
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27Chapter IV. The Grizzlykick Symphony.Among the several admirers of Mathilda Schwantzhacker was Stemka Gryczlkaeiouc, pronounced Grizzlykick, and known in Willows, and more particularly at the Commercial House, as "Stem". Gryczlkaeiouc was a farmer of parts, and owned two quarter sections of land eight miles south of Willows. He lived with his widowed father, Stoompka, or "Stump" Gryczlkaeiouc, who owned the other two quarter sections. Between them, Stump and Stem were thus the owners in fee simple of a complete square mile of Saskatchewan prairie, and could have owned a great deal more if they had thought it worth their while. But having regard for the fact that by all standards of their forefathers they were barons and landowner on a large scale, a fact of which their relatives in the old country were duly apprised from time to time, and having regard also for the cost of barbed wire which had never enclosed their estate, hut for fifteen years had merely marked the eastern boundary of it, they were content to rest upon their investment. Although they had never actually succeeded in raising a crop, due perhaps to the fact that the land south of Willows tended to merge by a series of gentle rises into a low range of sand hills of which their landed property marked the summit, they nevertheless produced some barley and potatoes. These together with an excellent spring of cold water which the farm miraculously provided, served the elder Gryzclkaeiouc in the produc-
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tion of new beverages in which he was interested, whereas, the younger Gryczlkaeiouc (or Steve Grizzlykick as he came to spell it) gave himself up during the summer months to the joys of the chase. The farm provided excellent hunting, and Steve, always a keen and ardent hunter, albeit a farsighted conservationist in that he seldom actually killed his gophers unless in self-defence, but merely removed the tails, was thus able to count on a steady income from the bounty on gopher tails without impoverishing the land.It was for Stemka or Steve Grizzlykick and Mathilda Schwantzhacker that the famous Gryzzlykick symphony of poems came to be written.Of the meeting of these two souls, of the prairie idyll whichlabeled to their marriage and eventually blossomed into love we knowall too little. Mathilda herself has always been reticent about this period, whereas Steve Grizzlykick has not been reticent enough. Marrowfat, it is true, has made an intensive study here and has published his findings without greatly enriching our knowledge of the subject. We are, however, not so much concerned with Steve and Mathilda as we are with Sarah's reactions towards them.For the poetess, the idyll between Steve and Mathilda was at once an awakening and an opportunity; an awakening in that never before had she attempted to express the tender passion, it was a new theme for her, and an opportunity toexpress the soul at a new elevation. Her dearest friend was in love and was to be married. It is true, as events showed, that Mathilda at this time was not exactly in love, nor was it for a number of years that she could be called exactly married*Marrowfat, H. � "The Prairie Crocus and the Bologny Flower, A Reply to Rosalind Drool." �- Privately printed and distributed. 1936
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29but all was grist for Sarah's mill. If the path of true love failed to run smoothly all the easier for her meter. She wrote of their meetings, their joys, and their sorrows, their longings and their frustrations. It has even been suggested that she wrote some of the verses for Steve Grizzlykick to hand to Mathilda as his own. This, however, is unlikely. Sarah was too much of the self-conscious artist to trust her genius into strange hands where it might he misinterpreted. She possessed above all the true artist's ability to project herself into another personality and into another situation and make them her own. It is on this basis that the Grizzlykick, as well as of all Sarah's poetry, must be understood and appreciated for their true greatness.The meeting between Steve and Mathilda took place apparently at the school-house dance. There is some evidence to indicate that Steve had seen Mathilda before this occasion and had admired her from afar. The poem, HI, SOOKY, HO SOOKY which was found among Sarah's letters when they were acquired for the Binksian collection, although not in Sarah's handwriting, is obviously in Sarah's inimmitable style.
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30HI, SOOKY, HO, SOOKY.Oh, I heard your voice at daybreak, Calling loud and sweet and clear; I was hiding in the turnips With a cricket in my ear; A miller-moth in one ear, And a cricket in the other, But I heard your dear voice calling To the piglets and their mother; Heard your own voice rising, felling, Loud and long, and sharp and shrill, Calling, "Sooky, Sooky, Sookyl" To the piglets on the hill; "Hi, sooky, ho, Sooky, Come and get your swill!"Oh, I've hid among the turnips, And I've hid between the stooks, With barley barbs all down my back, And beetles in my boots; But I've seen you in the dwindling, And I've seen you in the rain, With an armfull full of kindling, When you fell and rose again; I've seen you plodding through the dust And plugging through the wet. And at night against the window-blind, I've seen your silhouette; But "Sooky, Sooky, Sooky," I never can forget; "Hi, Sooky, Ho Sooky, Come end get your pep!"And oh, I think I'll hide again For just a sight of you, Or hear your own sweet voice again Call "Sooky, Sooky, Soo, Hi, Sooky, Ho, Sooky, Come and get the stew, Sooky, Come and get your goo, Sooky, Sooky, Sooky, Soo!".It is a long poem for Sarah. As a rule she expresses herself in a few short verses, leaving the rest to the reader's imagination, and herein, as her commentators are fond of pointing out, lies her greatest charm. Nevertheless, Professor Marrowfat rates it as one of her finest: "Another poem likethis and Sarah could give the whole hey-nonny-nonny school
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31of poets Aces and Jacks".Concerning the dance where Steve is supposed to have met Mathilda, we have two poems. In INVITATION TO TH DANCE Sarah has captured the lilt and rhythm of the dance itself:INVITATION TO THE DANCE.Come tread me the measure, I give you the pleasure, The one-step, the two-step, or three, The polka so tender, You'll always remember, With joy if you tread it with me.You'll be glad that we met -To the clarionette,We will swing ana we'll twist on the floor,With a hound we will mount,To the middle and count �One-two-three, one-two-three, four.In THE MEETING Sarah expresses the ecstatic joy of a young man on meeting his "beloved for the first time:THE MEETING.Dearest, can I forget that day of meeting, 'Twas at a dance - I diffidently threw A conversation lozenge for a greeting � It hit you in the eye, my aim was true; You dropped your cup of coffee, I remember, You blushed and rose and gave me playful shove, And oh, that look, beyond description tender, with one eye closed and one eye full of love; I offered you my arm band as a token, Complete with photograph � you took it slow, Reluctantly � you said it might get broken, But thought you'd wear it where it wouldn't show; And I, who drank of life's abounding measure, Shall hold your token as a thing apart � The sandwich that you gave me I shall treasure, And wear it always closest to my heart.Love ripens quickly in the dry air of Saskatchewan.Two days after THE MEETING Sarah reached a new high in THELIGHT, a poem in which the shy flutterings of Mathilda's heart for Steve Grizzlykick are expressed in the symbolism
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3*of the tree. Trees were always scarce around Willows and tended to be email, the oldest, and in fact, the only tree* between Willows and South Vigil, and undoubtedly the one mentioned in THE PLIGHT is still of such a size that to enjoy its shade is a matter attended by difficulty. THE PLIGHT is therefore doubly interesting in that it represents a botanical as well as lyrical achievement.THE PLIGHT.Is this the tree that saw our first love's plighting, And those the leaves that heard our first lovers vow, And yonder limb that saw love's first delighting, Is that the very limb, the self-seme bough? Is this its scanty shade where love first hit me, And caterpillars tumbled from on high � Is yonder ant the very ant that bit me, And them the same mosquitoes in the sky?Can this then be the tree that seemed so leaden, And gray and dull a scant few hours ago? In all is changed � its branches reach to heaven, And up and down the angel antlets go; Time cannot change, though leaf and twig may wither, And caterpillar struggle into moth �This is the tree that heard love's first sweet blither, This is the spot we loudly plighted troth.Sarah has written many charming poems in her time, but for airy lightness none perhaps touches in charm that universal favorite THE WEDDING DRESS. It would appear that Mathilda was already considering her trousseau and in defiance of the Schwantzhacker tradition, is about to order one from the mail order catalogue. Her even greater defiance of the tradition that a dress must not shrink, and must "wear, wash, and be warm" may be due to Sarah's influence. Dr. Mahal also points out, with his usual mathematical accuracy, that dresses*This tree finally died during the drought of 1937* The bronze plate mounted at the base of the tree by the Ladies Literary League of Quagmire in commemoration of Rover has since been removed and is preserved in their collection of Binksiana.
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33at that time were four inches shorter than the present mean length.THE WEDDING DRESS.On page two hundred and sixty three,Oh, there's the very dress for me,The price is right,The sire is tight,The color red, and green, and white �And I'll be chick, I'll be petite,Oh, that's the drees for me!They say that man wants little here.... Nor wants that little long � nor dear, And so I say, On wedding day,A dress that's short, and cute, and gay, And light enough for the breeze to play. And a special price "To clear".Though after wedding day we find It's short in front and long behind, And winds on heath Get underneath,And rattle bones, and ribs, and teeth � Fov wedding day with wedding wreath I want to look refined.It may have been that Sarah, carried away by her poetical imagination anticipated somewhat when she wrote PROPOSAL and CHRISTMAS EVE, two songs which glorify the wedding day. The computations of Dr. Taj Mahal would indicate that these two poems, together with LULLABY were written at a later date, although Marrowfat, whose contempt for the mathematical interpretation of literature is equalled only by that which he entertains for the Literary Editor of the HORSEBREEDERS' GAZETTE points to the internal evidence of PROPOSAL in refutation. Steve apparently during the closed season for gophers was in the habit of hiring himself out for a week or so at a time, and consequently appears in the PROPOSAL as a hired man.
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3*PROPOSALThe hired man to the maiden spoke; "Oh, marry me to-morrow, we'll fill the heater up with coke, Kettle, beans, and bacon borrow, Make a table, build a bed � Who so happy when we're wed? Happy, happy, while we can" To the maid the hired man."Oh, not so fast", the maid replied, "In this I am immutable, I fear your love would weaken, Though your ardor's indisputable; Love may wane and love may wax, Mine can only thrive on facts � Work a year and we shall see," Cried the maiden modestly.Apparently the path of true love was already beginning to deviate from a straight line. There is, however, little to indicate this in LULLABY one of Sarah's finest. This lullaby has been included in the recently published ANTHOLOGY OF BRITISH LULLABYS SINCE 1900. Lord Inchworm, in his preface to this anthology, comments as follows; "The British Empire has produced some very sweet lullabys in its day, but for sheer opiate and saccharine quality few have excelled that of the Canadian poetess Sarah Binks. I have never yet succeeded in reading it through; the last time I started it I fell asleep and slept like a child for hours afterwards."LULLABY.Sleep, my darling, sleep away, Daddy's gone to town with hay, And at four o'clock will come The man who sells aluminum; Mother's sold on kitchen ware, Sleep, she wants to do her hair � Though you're far too young for telling, Mother doesn't want you yelling When the salesman comes � so you, Sleep 'till five or a quarter to.

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