Who is Archibald Macleish

Archibald MacLeish (May 7, 1892 – April 20, 1982) was an American poet and writer, who was associated with the modernist school of poetry. MacLeish studied English at Yale University and law at Harvard University. He enlisted in and saw action during the First World War and lived in Paris in the 1920s. On returning to the United States, he contributed to Henry Luce's magazine Fortune from 1929 to 1938. For five years, MacLeish was the ninth Librarian of Congress, a post he accepted at the urging of President Franklin D. Roosevelt. From 1949 to 1962, he was Boylston Professor of Rhetoric and Oratory at Harvard. He was awarded three Pulitzer Prizes for his work.

Early years

MacLeish was born in Glencoe, Illinois. His father, Scottish-born Andrew MacLeish, worked as...
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Archibald Macleish Poems

  • The Young Dead Soldiers Do Not Speak
    The young dead soldiers do not speak.

    Nevertheless, they are heard in the still houses:
    who has not heard them? ...
  • Hypocrite Auteur
    mon semblable, mon frère
    (1)
    Our epoch takes a voluptuous satisfaction
    In that perspective of the action ...
  • Definition Of The Frontiers
    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.
    ...
  • Autumn
    Sun smudge on
    the smoky water

    ...
  • The Rock In The Sea
    Think of our blindness where the water burned!
    Are we so certain that those wings, returned
    And turning, we had half discerned
    Before our dazzled eyes had surely seen ...
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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


Archibald Macleish Quotes

  • It is not in the world of ideas that life is lived. Life is lived for better or worse in life, and to a man in life, his life can be no more absurd than it can be the opposite of absurd, whatever that opposite may be.
  • Once you permit those who are convinced of their own superior rightness to censor and silence and suppress those who hold contrary opinions, just at that moment the citadel has been surrendered. For the American citadel is a man. Not man in general. Not man in the abstract. Not the majority of men. But man. That man. His worth. His uniqueness.
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Comments about Archibald Macleish

Engeetw: what is a sea-bird's wing? what beauty past believing are you remembering? — archibald macleish
Toddniemi: immortal autumn by archibald macleish 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 unanswering branches...
Aploverplods: librarians at the ala conference in 1939 were steamed that archibald macleish was appointed librarian of congress because he wasn't a librarian. ha.
Rogeriomarquest: ...o, a meaning! over us on these silent beaches the bright earth, presence among us.” – archibald macleish for the new york times, july 21, 1969
Hansdafwa: “the only thing about a man that is a man is his mind. everything else you can find in a pig or a horse.” archibald macleish
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Poem of the day

Emily Dickinson Poem
Some Wretched creature, savior take
 by Emily Dickinson

1111

Some Wretched creature, savior take
Who would exult to die
And leave for thy sweet mercy's sake
Another Hour to me


...

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