Archibald Macleish Long Poems

  • 1.
    First there is the wind but not like the familiar wind but long and without lapses or falling away or surges of air as is usual but rather like the persistent pressure of a river or a running tide.

    This wind is from the other side and has an odor unlike the odor of the winds with us but like time if time had odor and were cold and carried a bitter and sharp taste like rust on the taste of snow or the fragrance of thunder.

    ...
  • 2.
    I speak this poem now with grave and level voice
    In praise of autumn, of the far-horn-winding fall.

    I praise the flower-barren fields, the clouds, the tall
    ...
  • 3.
    Oh, not the loss of the accomplished thing!
    Not dumb farewells, nor long relinquishment
    Of beauty had, and golden summer spent,
    And savage glory of the fluttering
    ...
  • 4.
    WE HAVE loved each other in this time twenty years
    And with such love as few men have in them even for
    One or for the marriage month or the hearing of
    Three nights' carts in the street but it will leave them:
    ...
  • 5.
    THE praisers of women in their proud and beautiful poems
    Naming the grave mouth and the hair and the eyes
    Boasted those they loved should be forever remembered
    These were lies
    ...
  • 6.
    The earth, still heavy and warm with afternoon,
    Dazed by the moon:

    The earth, tormented with the moonâ??s light,
    ...
  • 7.
    And here face down beneath the sun
    And here upon earth's noonward height
    To feel the always coming on
    The always rising of the night
    ...
Total 7 Long Poems by Archibald Macleish

Top 10 most used topics by Archibald Macleish

Night 11 Sea 10 Water 10 World 9 Dark 9 Sun 9 Wind 8 Earth 7 Long 7 Light 7

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Poem of the day

Wilfrid Scawen Blunt Poem
Why Do I Love?
 by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Why do I love?
Is it for men to choose
The hour of the hushed night when crowned with dews
From its sea grave the morning star shall wake?
Lo, while we drowsed, it rose on our heart's ache,
And all our heaven was red with the day's hues,
And glad birds chaunted from the trees above.
So was it with my heart that might not choose
...

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