Modern American Poetry: A Critical AnthologyLouis Untermeyer Harcourt, Brace, 1925 - 621 pages |
Contents
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Common terms and phrases
ain't American Amy Lowell Anthology ballads beauty beneath birds blue boomlay born breath Bret Harte bright burning color Conrad Aiken dark dawn dead dear world death door dream dust earth Edgar Lee Masters Emily Dickinson England eyes face feet flower Frost gold golden grass hair hand heart heaven Hovey Imagists Joaquin Miller Lanier later laughed light lilac Lindsay lines literary lived Lizette Woodworth Reese look Miss moon negro never night poems poet poetic poetry published rain Reprinted by permission rhyme Richard Hovey river rose Sandburg Sara Teasdale Sidney Lanier silence silver sing sleep smile Smoke song sonnets soul spirit Spoon River Anthology spring stars strange sweet things thou thought trees turned Vachel Lindsay verse voice volume walk Whitman wild wind write York
Popular passages
Page 48 - But the hands that were played By that heathen Chinee, And the points that he made, Were quite frightful to see, — Till at last he put down a right bower, Which the same Nye had dealt unto me. Then I looked up at Nye, And he gazed upon me ; And he rose with a sigh, And said, " Can this be? We are ruined by Chinese cheap labour," — And he went for that heathen Chinee.
Page 59 - The dewberry dipped for to work delay, And the little reeds sighed Abide, abide, Here in the hills of Habersham, Here in the valleys of Hall.
Page 225 - I'd like to get away from earth awhile And then come back to it and begin over. May no fate willfully misunderstand me And half grant what I wish and snatch me away Not to return. Earth's the right place for love: I don't know where it's likely to go better.
Page 221 - He thinks if he could teach him that, he'd be Some good perhaps to someone in the world. He hates to see a boy the fool of books. Poor Silas, so concerned for other folk, And nothing to look backward to with pride, And nothing to look forward to with hope, So now and never any different.
Page 77 - OUTWITTED He drew a circle that shut me out — Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout. But Love and I had the wit to win: We drew a circle that took him in!
Page 394 - OREAD Whirl up, sea — Whirl your pointed pines. Splash your great pines On our rocks. Hurl your green over us — Cover us with your pools of fir.
Page 262 - The lost, that in armies wept over your funeral pall? They call on the names of a hundred high-valiant ones, A hundred white eagles have risen the sons of your sons, The zeal in their wings is a zeal that your dreaming began The valor that wore out your soul in the service of man.
Page 228 - Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.
Page 213 - I'm going out to clean the pasture spring; I'll only stop to rake the leaves away (And wait to watch the water clear, I may): I shan't be gone long.— You come too.
Page 272 - It is portentous, and a thing of state That here at midnight, in our little town A mourning figure walks, and will not rest, Near the old courthouse pacing up and down, Or by his homestead, or in shadowed yards He lingers where his children used to play, Or through the market, on the well-worn stones, He stalks until the dawn-stars burn away. A bronzed, lank man! His suit of ancient black, A famous high top-hat and plain, worn shawl Make him the quaint great figure that men love, The prairie lawyer,...