Alan Seeger

(22 June 1888 - 4 July 1916 / New York City, New York)

Alan Seeger Poems

41. Sonnet 06 1/1/2004
42. Sonnet 05 1/1/2004
43. Sonnet 04 1/1/2004
44. Sonnet 03 1/1/2004
45. Sonnet 02 1/1/2004
46. Sonnet 01 1/1/2004
47. Resurgam 1/1/2004
48. Rendezvous 1/3/2003
49. Paris 1/1/2004
50. On The Cliffs, Newport 1/1/2004
51. On A Theme In The Greek Anthology 1/1/2004
52. Ode In Memory Of The American Volunteers Fallen For France 1/3/2003
53. Maktoob 1/3/2003
54. Lyonesse 1/1/2004
55. Liebestod 1/1/2004
56. La Nue 1/1/2004
57. Kyrenaikos 1/1/2004
58. Juvenilia, An Ode To Natural Beauty 1/1/2004
59. I Loved... 1/1/2004
60. I Have A Rendezvous With Death 1/3/2003
61. Fragments 1/1/2004
62. Eudaemon 1/1/2004
63. El Extraviado 1/1/2004
64. Do You Remember Once . . . 1/1/2004
65. Coucy 1/1/2004
66. Champagne, 1914-15 1/3/2003
67. Broceliande 1/1/2004
68. Bellinglise 1/1/2004
69. At The Tomb Of Napoleon 1/1/2004
70. Ariosto. Orlando Furioso, Canto X, 91-99 1/1/2004
71. Antinous 1/1/2004
72. An Ode To Antares 1/1/2004
73. All That's Not Love . . . 1/1/2004
74. After An Epigram Of Clement Marot 1/1/2004
75. A Message To America 1/1/2004
Best Poem of Alan Seeger

I Have A Rendezvous With Death

I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple-blossoms fill the air—
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.

It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land
And close my eyes and quench my breath—
It may be I shall pass him still.
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill,
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow-flowers appear.

God knows 'twere better to be deep
Pillowed in silk ...

Read the full of I Have A Rendezvous With Death

Sonnet V

A tide of beauty with returning May
Floods the fair city; from warm pavements fume
Odors endeared; down avenues in bloom
The chestnut-trees with phallic spires are gay.
Over the terrace flows the thronged cafe;
The boulevards are streams of hurrying sound;
And through the streets, like veins when they abound,
The lust for pleasure throbs itself away.
Here let me live, here let me still pursue

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