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Archive S-T

· Marriage Morning by Alfred Lord Tennyson · Sara Teasdale: Evening, New York · Late, Late, so Late by Alfred, Lord Tennyson · Crossing the Bar by Alfred Lord Tennyson · Sara Teasdale: I Am Not Yours · An essential collection of James Tate’s extraordinary poems · Sara Teasdale: I Thought of You · Milton by Alfred, Lord Tennyson · Nieuwe roman Nick J. Swarth: 1980 – Ik, de zelfzuchtige aap · The Eagle by Alfred, Lord Tennyson · Break, Break, Break by Alfred Lord Tennyson · Edith Södergran: En önskan

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Marriage Morning by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Marriage Morning

Light, so low upon earth,
You send a flash to the sun.
Here is the golden close of love,
All my wooing is done.
Oh, all the woods and the meadows,
Woods, where we hid from the wet,
Stiles where we stayed to be kind,
Meadows in which we met!
Light, so low in the vale
You flash and lighten afar,
For this is the golden morning of love,
And you are his morning star.
Flash, I am coming, I come,
By meadow and stile and wood,
Oh, lighten into my eyes and my heart,
Into my heart and my blood!
Heart, are you great enough
For a love that never tires?
O heart, are you great enough for love?
I have heard of thorns and briers.
Over the thorns and briers,
Over the meadows and stiles,
Over the world to the end of it
Flash of a million miles.

Alfred Lord Tennyson
(1809-1892)
Marriage Morning

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Sara Teasdale: Evening, New York

Evening: New York

Blue dust of evening over my city,
⁠Over the ocean of roofs and the tall towers
Where the window-lights, myriads and myriads,
⁠Bloom from the walls like climbing flowers.

Sara Teasdale
(1884-1933)
Evening: New York
from: Flame and Shadow

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Late, Late, so Late by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Late, Late, so Late

Late, late, so late! and dark the night and chill!
Late, late, so late! but we can enter still.
Too late, too late! ye cannot enter now.

No light had we: for that we do repent;
And learning this, the bridegroom will relent.
Too late, too late! ye cannot enter now.

No light: so late! and dark and chill the night!
O, let us in, that we may find the light!
Too late, too late: ye cannot enter now.

Have we not heard the bridegroom is so sweet?
O, let us in, tho’ late, to kiss his feet!
No, no, too late! ye cannot enter now.”

Alfred Lord Tennyson
(1809-1892)
Late, Late, so Late

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Crossing the Bar by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Crossing the Bar

Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;

For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.

Alfred Lord Tennyson
(1809-1892)
Crossing the Bar

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Sara Teasdale: I Am Not Yours

I Am Not Yours

I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.

You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.

Oh plunge me deep in love—put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.

Sara Teasdale
(1884-1933)
I Am Not Yours

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An essential collection of James Tate’s extraordinary poems

Hell, I Love Everybody.

An essential collection of James Tate’s extraordinary poems that will captivate today’s readers, with a foreword by Terrance Hayes

Celebrating James Tate’s work as it transcends convention, time, and everything that tells us, “No, you can’t do that,” Hell, I Love Everybody gives us the poet at his best, his most intimate, hopeful, inventive, and brilliant. John Ashbery called Tate the “poet of possibilities,” and this collection records forays into possibilities for American poetry’s future. With a foreword by Terrance Hayes, it is sure to give readers new and old a lasting collection of favorites.

James Tate was born in 1943 in Kansas City, Missouri. He earned a BA from Kansas State College and an MFA from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. He was the author of over 20 poetry collections, including the posthumously published The Government Lake (2018); The Ghost Soldiers (2008); Worshipful Company of Fletchers (1994), which won the National Book Award; Selected Poems (1991), which won the Pulitzer Prize and the William Carlos Williams Award; Distance from Loved Ones (1990); Constant Defender (1983); Viper Jazz (1976); and The Oblivion Ha-Ha (1970). Tate died in 2015, at the age of 71.

James Tate’s poems have been awarded the National Book Award, the Pulitzer Prize, the Wallace Stevens Award, the William Carlos Williams Award, the Yale Younger Poets Award, and the National Institute of Arts and Letters Award, and have been translated across the globe. Tate was a member of the American Academy of Arts and Letters; his many collections include The Lost Pilot, The Oblivion Ha-Ha, Absences, Distance from Loved Ones, Worshipful Company of Fletchers, and The Ghost Soldiers. Born in Kansas City, Missouri, he made his home in Pelham, Massachusetts.

Terrance Hayes is the author of Lighthead, winner of the 2010 National Book Award and finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award. His other books are Wind in a Box, Hip Logic, Muscular Music, and How to Be Drawn, which was a finalist for the 2015 National Book Award and received the 2016 NAACP Image Award for Poetry. His honors include a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship, a Guggenheim Fellowship, and a 2014 MacArthur Fellowship.

Hell, I love everybody
An essential collection of James Tate’’s extraordinary poems
hat will captivate today’s readers,
with an introduction by Terrance Hayes
Publisher: Ecco Press
Publish Date: November 07, 2023
Pages 112
Dimensions 5.3 X 7.1 X 0.3 inches
Language English
Type Paperback
EAN/UPC 9780063306073
Price $17.99

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Sara Teasdale: I Thought of You

I Thought of You

I thought of you and how you love this beauty,
⁠And walking up the long beach all alone
I heard the waves breaking in measured thunder
⁠As you and I once heard their monotone.

Around me were the echoing dunes, beyond me
⁠The cold and sparkling silver of the sea—
We two will pass through death and ages lengthen
⁠Before you hear that sound again with me.

Sara Teasdale
(1884-1933)
I Thought of You
from: Flame and Shadow

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Milton by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Milton
(Alcaics)

O mighty-mouth’d inventor of harmonies,
O skill’d to sing of Time or Eternity,
God-gifted organ-voice of England,
Milton, a name to resound for ages;
Whose Titan angels, Gabriel, Abdiel,
Starr’d from Jehovah’s gorgeous armouries,
Tower, as the deep-domed empyrean
Rings to the roar of an angel onset—
Me rather all that bowery loneliness,
The brooks of Eden mazily murmuring,
And bloom profuse and cedar arches
Charm, as a wanderer out in ocean,
Where some refulgent sunset of India
Streams o’er a rich ambrosial ocean isle,
And crimson-hued the stately palm-woods
Whisper in odorous heights of even.

Alfred Lord Tennyson
(1809-1892)
Milton

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Nieuwe roman Nick J. Swarth: 1980 – Ik, de zelfzuchtige aap

In 1980 – Ik, de zelfzuchtige aap worden de levens van Ratel, Dr. Pink, Klein Yani, Chloë, Louise-Michelle, Schmaus en Emiel de B. verder opgepakt. Anno 1980 maken zij deel uit van de no-future generatie.

De maatschappij biedt werkeloosheid, armoe en woningnood, dus zoeken ze hun heil en toekomst buiten de kleinburgerlijke paden, in de kraakscene, het activisme, new wave muziek en seksuele escapades.

Het ontredderde X-Burg, beroofd van haar textielnijverheid, biedt het stratenplan voor brutale bondige scènes, al doolt Emiel de B. liever door Berlijn. Je hoeft maar een hoek om te slaan om je vast te lopen in het verleden en te beseffen dat de onontkoombare psycho­geografie van de stad in iedere steen is verankerd.

1980 – Ik, de zelfzuchtige aap
Swart, Nick J.
Uitgeverij IJzer, Utrecht
ISBN 9789086842865
Formaat: 15 x 23 cm
Omvang: 400 pagina’s
€25,00

Uitgeverij IJzer
Lessinglaan 97
3533 AV Utrecht
Telefoon: 030 – 2521798
e-mail: info@uitgeverij-ijzer.nl

Nick J. Swarth is geboren en getogen in Tilburg, waar hij woont en werkt. Hij is een artistieke vijfpoot, actief als schrijver, dichter, performer, muzikant en beeldend kunstenaar. Eind 2020 verscheen zijn debuutroman, ‘1980 – De plasserparadox’, het eerste deel uit een trilogie over een failliete stad in het activistische jaar 1980.
Swarth was de tweede stadsdichter van Tilburg (2005-2007), hetgeen resulteerde in de bundel ‘Naked City Poems’. Andere publicaties zijn de catalogus ‘Horror Vacui | een docudrama in 14 staties’ (verslag van een schandaal verwekkend kunstproject, i.s.m. Jeroen de Leijer) en poëzie in de bundels ‘Mijn onsterfelijke lever’ en ‘¡Mondo Manga!’
Swarth is de voice ‘n’ noise van het guerrilla rock trio Betonfraktion, dat drie platen uitbracht. Het duo Swagemakers Swarth biedt improvisaties voor viool en stem. Janine Ensslin is de ideale gastvrouw voor alle denkbare gelegenheden. Ze draait evenmin haar hand om voor een fijne, eigenzinnige verhandeling op bestelling.
(www.swarth.nl)

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The Eagle by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

 

The Eagle

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring’d with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.

Alfred Lord Tennyson
(1809-1892)
The Eagle

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Break, Break, Break by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Break, Break, Break

Break, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.

O, well for the fisherman’s boy,
That he shouts with his sister at play!
O, well for the sailor lad,
That he sings in his boat on the bay!

And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill;
But O for the touch of a vanish’d hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break
At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.

Alfred Lord Tennyson
(1809-1892)
Break, Break, Break

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Edith Södergran: En önskan

 

En önskan

Av hela vår soliga värld
önskar jag blott en trädgårdssoffa
där en katt solar sig…
Där skulle jag sitta
med ett brev i barmen,
ett enda litet brev.
Så ser min dröm ut…

Edith Södergran
(1892-1923)
En önskan

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