  Roy Helton was born at Washington, D. C., in 1886. He graduated from the University of Pennsylvania in 1908. He studied art—and found he was color-blind. He spent two years at inventions—and found he had no business sense. After a few more experiments, he became a schoolmaster in West Philadelphia. Helton’s first volume, Youth’s Pilgrimage (1915), is a strange, mystical affair, full of vague symbolism with a few purple patches. Outcasts in Beulah Land (1918) is entirely different in theme and treatment. This is a much starker verse; a poetry of city streets, direct and sharp. IN PASSINGThrough the dim window, I could see The little room—a sordid square Of helter-skelter penury: Piano, whatnot, splintered chair.... It is so small a room that I Seem almost at the woman’s side: Galled jade—too fat for vanity, And far too frankly old for pride. Her greasy apron ’round her waist; The dish cloth by her on the chair; As if in some wild headlong haste, She has come in and settled there. Grimly she bends her back and tries To stab the keys, with heavy hand; A child’s first finger exercise Before her on the music stand. |
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