The Little Review, June 1917 (Vol. 4, No. 2)

A kaleidoscope of early‑twentieth‑century voices unfolds in this month’s literary gathering, opening with sultry, translated verses that stir a lotus‑perfumed palace and linger like a lingering scent on a lover’s shawl. The poems shift from whispered melancholy to raucous, wine‑fueled revelry, each line a brushstroke that paints intoxicated gardens, mountain temples, and the restless pulse of a world on the brink. Interspersed are brief, imagistic interludes that tease the reader with fragmented images—spinning wheels, mechanical dervishes, and the quiet ache of a vanished embrace.

The prose essays then turn a critical eye toward the era’s fevered motion, probing how art, technology, and politics collide in an age that both glorifies and exhausts its own ambitions. A lively report from a Bronx Park gathering captures the tension of wartime America, where slogans of unity clash with street‑level dissent and the uneasy presence of a solitary Russian figure. Together, these pieces offer a vivid snapshot of a moment when creativity and unrest dance together, inviting listeners to hear the restless heartbeat of 1917.