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Other Poets
Henry AdamsJohn Quincy Adams James Agee Conrad Aiken Bronson Alcott Thomas Bailey Aldrich William Alfred Washington Allston Katherine Lee Bates Elizabeth Bishop Anne Bradstreet John Malcom Brinnin Witter Bynner William Ellery Channing II John Ciardi Robert Creeley Countee Cullen E.E. Cummings John Dos Passos W.E.B Dubois Richard Eberhart Ralph Waldo Emerson Robert Fitzgerald Robert Frost Angelina Weld Grimke Robert Hillyer John Holmes O.W. Holmes Julia Ward Howe Sarah Orne Jewett X. J. Kennedy Maxine Kumin Stanley Kunitz H.W. Longfellow Amy Lowell Robert Lowell Archibald Macleish Herman Melville Howard Nemerov Urian Oakes Charles Olson John Reed George Santayana May Sarton Delmore Schwartz Alan Seeger Anne Sexton L.E. Sissman Wallace Stevens Edward Taylor Henry David Thoreau Frederick Tuckerman John Updike Jones Very Amazon Note:
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Conrad Aiken1899 - 1973
Conrad Aiken's early years in Savannah, Georgia, were full of fear based on beatings by his father, a physician who became so paranoid that he shot his wife and then himself to death. Conrad, their twelve year-old son, heard the shots and discovered their bodies. His uncle, a Harvard librarian, cared for him when he went to school in Concord, where he edited the school magazine and then attended Harvard College, where he and T.S. Eliot began a lifelong friendship. Aiken was so shy that he left college early rather than accept the honor of being the Class Poet. His life was devoted to writing and living on a small inheritance in the United Kingdom and the United States. Along with his legacy of poetry, prose, and fiction, he wrote a fictionalized autobiography, Ushant. Sigmund Freud spoke of his Great Circle as a masterpiece of analytical interpretation. Among his many honors were a National Medal for Literature and a National Book Award. All three children of his marriage in 1812 to Jessie MacDonald, a Canadian, became writers. The selection chosen for inclusion here is Part One of his poem "Discordants." DISCORDANTS
I
Music I heard with you was more than music,
And bread I broke with you was more than bread Now that I am without you, all is desolate; All that was once so beautiful is dead.
Your hands once touched this table and this silver,
And I have seen your fingers hold this glass. These things do not remember you, beloved,- And yet your touch upon them will not pass.
For it was in my heart you moved among them,
And blessed them with your hands and with your eyes; And in my heart they will remember always,- They knew you once, O beautiful and wise. | |||||
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