John Crowe Ransom (30 April 1888 - 3 July 1974 / Pulaski Tennessee)
Poems of John Crowe Ransom
|1.||A Christmas Colloquy||3/31/2010|
|2.||An American Addresses Philomela||3/31/2010|
|5.||Bells For John Whiteside's Daughter||1/3/2003|
|7.||By The Riverside||3/31/2010|
|9.||Conrad in Twilight||1/3/2003|
|14.||Emily Hardcastle, Spinster||3/31/2010|
|19.||Judith Of Bethulia||3/31/2010|
The friar had said his paternosters duly
And scourged his limbs, and afterwards would have slept;
But with much riddling his head became unruly,
He arose, from the quiet monastery he crept.
Dawn lightened the place where the battle had been won.
The people were dead -- it is easy he thought to die --
These dead remained, but the living were all gone,
Gone with the wailing trumps of victory.