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poet

F. S. Flint

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F. S. Flint was born in London, England, on December 19, 1885. He grew up in poverty and finished his formal education at age thirteen. In 1904, he began a career in civil service as a typist, and in 1908, he began writing reviews and articles for the literary journal New Age.

Flint was the author of three poetry collections: Otherword, Cadences (Poetry Bookshop, 1920), Cadences (Poetry Bookshop, 1915), and In the Net of Stars (E. Matthews, 1909).

A leading member of the Imagist movement, he was closely associated with H. D., T. E. Hulme, and Ezra Pound. In 1913, he published a note on “Imagisme” in Poetry, writing, “The imagistes admitted that they were contemporaries of the Post Impressionists and the Futurists; but they had nothing in common with these schools. They had not published a manifesto. They were not a revolutionary school; their only endeavor was to write in accordance with the best tradition….”

Flint was also a translator of French poetry, including The Love Poems of Emile Verhaeren (Houghton Mifflin, 1917), and was known for his literary criticism, which he published in Criterion, The Egoist, and other literary magazines.

He worked at the Ministry of Labour from 1919 to 1951. He died in Berkshire, England, on February 28, 1960.


Selected Bibliography

Otherworld, Cadences (Poetry Bookshop, 1920)
Cadences (Poetry Bookshop, 1915)
In the Net of the Stars (E. Matthews, 1909)

by this poet

poem

The grass is beneath my head;
and I gaze
at the thronging stars
in the night.

They fall… they fall…
I am overwhelmed,
and afraid.

Each leaf of the aspen
is caressed by the wind,
and each is crying.

And the perfume
of invisible roses
deepens the anguish

poem

London, my beautiful,
it is not the sunset
nor the pale green sky
shimmering through the curtain
of the silver birch,
nor the quietness;
it is not the hopping
of birds
upon the lawn,
nor the darkness
stealing over all things
that moves me.

But as the moon

poem

I know this room,
and there are corridors:
the pictures, I have seen before;
the statues and those gems in cases
I have wandered by before,—
stood there silent and lonely
in a dream of years ago.

I know the dark of night is all around me;
my eyes are closed, and I am half