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| | Spender, Sir, Stephen Harold |
 | | Spender might be described as a poet who was simply too busy doing other interesting things - writing plays, autobiography, journals, novels, translations and criticism, editing magazines, working for Unesco, teaching, lecturing, and making friends with the famous - to have actually got round to writing any great poetry. |
 | | In his typically adulatory poem "V.W. (1941)", Spender recalled: "That woman who, entering a room, / Stood, staring round at all, with rays / From her wild eyes, till people there / And books, pictures, furniture - / Became transformed within her gaze." It's possible she was just looking for a means of escape. |
 | | Spender's poetry is best read as a footnote and adjunct to these other achievements; but this is hardly to condemn. |
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