Who is Trumbull Stickney

Joseph Trumbull Stickney (June 20, 1874 – October 11, 1904) was an American classical scholar and poet.

He was born in Geneva and spent much of his early life in Europe. He attended Harvard University from 1891, when he became editor of the Harvard Monthly and a member of Signet society, to 1895, when he graduated magna cum laude. He then studied for seven years in Paris, taking a doctorate at the Sorbonne. He wrote there two dissertations, a Latin one on the Venetian humanist Ermolao Barbaro, and the other on Les Sentences dans la Poésie Grecque d'Homère à Euripide. The latter is openly indebted to The Birth of Tragedy and to Stickney's study of the Bhagavad Gita under the tutelage of Sylvain Lévi. Stickney's was the first American docteur ès...
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Trumbull Stickney Poems

  • Loneliness
    These autumn gardens, russet, gray and brown,
    The sward with shrivelled foliage strown,
    The shrubs and trees
    By weary wings of sunshine overflown ...
  • I Hear A River Thro' The Valley Wander
    I hear a river thro' the valley wander
    Whose water runs, the song alone remaining.
    A rainbow stands and summer passes under.
  • Service
    Chide me not, darling, that I sing
    Familiar thoughts and metres old:
    Nay, do not scold
    My spirit's childish uttering. ...
  • On Some Shells Found Inland
    These are my murmur-laden shells that keep
    A fresh voice tho' the years be very gray.
    The wave that washed their lips and tuned their lay
    Is gone, gone with the faded ocean sweep, ...
  • You Say, Columbus With His Argosies
    You say, Columbus with his argosies
    Who rash and greedy took the screaming main
    And vanished out before the hurricane
    Into the sunset after merchandise, ...
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Top 10 most used topics by Trumbull Stickney

Light 9 Sun 8 Sea 8 Green 7 Alone 7 Summer 7 Life 7 World 6 Long 6 Earth 6

Trumbull Stickney Quotes

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Comments about Trumbull Stickney

  • Adirdagal: "i cannot understand you. it is because you lean over my meaning's edge and feel a dizziness of the things i have not said." ~trumbull stickney
  • Ahsandeliri: "i cannot understand you. 't is because you lean over my meaning's edge and feel a dizziness of the things i have not said." from the soul of time, by trumbull stickney
  • Welfordwrites: on some shells found inland, a poem by trumbull stickney. a sonnet about things found out of place. click the link!
  • Rajoyceucb: —trumbull stickney, “leave him now quiet by the way”
  • Owenelphick: these two trumbull stickney poems really got me in my november feels today. “it’s autumn in the country, i remember.” * “the evening fills the garden, hardly red; / and autumn goes away, like one alone.”
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Poem of the day

Alfred Lord Tennyson Poem
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 54. Oh, Yet We Trust That Somehow Goo
 by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Oh, yet we trust that somehow good
Will be the final end of ill,
To pangs of nature, sins of will,
Defects of doubt, and taints of blood;
That nothing walks with aimless feet;
That not one life shall be destroy'd,
Or cast as rubbish to the void,
When God hath made the pile complete;

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