Ann Stanford (November 25, 1916, La Habra, California – July 12, 1987) was an American poet.
She graduated from Stanford University in 1938 Phi Beta Kappa, and University of California, Los Angeles, with an M.A. in journalism in 1958, an M.A. in English in 1961, and a Ph.D. in English and American literature in 1962.
Stanford married Roland Arthur White, an architect, in 1942, and ... more »
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Ann Stanford Poems
This is the village where we grew Our fathers and their sires in line The trees they planted shade the view And the white houses shine.
From the center of our body Come the bright flowers.
You must remember never to offend the gods by being too sure of anything. Think of Niobe, how she grew in pride watching her seven tall sons and seven fair daughters.
I am terrified marooned on a rock with a gale freshening and the waves already spatter me with spindrift.
To Her Spirit at Winter Solstice
Now the year ends darkly. The sun drifts in the south. Will it ever return?
My house is torn down-- Plaster sifting, the pillars broken, Beams jagged, the wall crushed by the bulldozer. The whole roof has fallen
Comments about Ann Stanford
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
This is the village where we grew
Our fathers and their sires in line
The trees they planted shade the view
And the white houses shine.
The families here had come to stay
The preacher was the parson's son
And if one brother moved away
We kept the solid one.
We tended order in the town
Our lawns were trim, our hedges green
And in the countryside around
The furrows straight and clean
We went to church, obeyed the laws
And voted on election day.
The peaceful farms surrounded us
The battles always far away.
And when the soldiers came to town