Seasons Of The Soul (Allen Tate Poems)
To the memory of John Peale Bishop, 1892-1944Attor porsi la mano un poco avante,e colsi un ramicel da un gran ...
To the memory of John Peale Bishop, 1892-1944Attor porsi la mano un poco avante,e colsi un ramicel da un gran ...
Not yet the thirtieth year, the thirtiethStation where time reverses his light heelsTo rim both ways, and makes of forward ...
An old soldier on the night before the veteransreunion talks partly to himself, partly to imaginary comrades:The people-people of my ...
Row after row with strict impunityThe headstones yield their names to the element,The wind whirs without recollection;In the riven troughs ...
Cats walk the floor at midnight; that enemy of fog,The moon, wraps the bedpost in receding stillness; sleepCollects all weary ...
To St. John PerseOnce more the country callsFrom sleep, as from his doom,Each citizen to takeHis modest stakeWhere the sky ...
Now all day long the man who is not deadHastens the dark with inattentive eyes,The woman with white hand and ...
To the memory of W. B. YeatsITowards nightfall when the windTries the eaves and casements(A winter wind of the mindLong ...
To Arthur MizenerHit mus be now de Kingdom comiriAnd de year of Jubilo . . .Tail-spinning from the shelves of ...
I give the yawp barbaricOf piety and pelf(Who now reads Herrick?)And contradict myselfNo matter, the verse is large.My five-and-ten cent ...
To E. E. CummingsI see the horses and the sad streetsOf my childhood in an agate eyeRoving, under the clean ...
There by some wrinkled stones round a leafless treeWith beards askew, their eyes dull and wildTwelve ragged men, the council ...
Jefferson Davis: 1808-1889No more the white refulgent streets.Never the dry hollows of the mindShall he in fine courtesy walkAgain, for ...
Say never the strong heartIn the consuming breathCries out unto the darkThe skinny death.Look! whirring on the rindOf aether a ...
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