Alan Seeger

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

Alan Seeger Poems

41. Antinous 1/1/2004
42. The Bayadere 1/1/2004
43. Lyonesse 1/1/2004
44. The Sultan's Palace 1/3/2003
45. Liebestod 1/1/2004
46. Written In A Volume Of The Comtesse De Noailles 1/1/2004
47. The Need To Love 1/3/2003
48. Ariosto. Orlando Furioso, Canto X, 91-99 1/1/2004
49. Coucy 1/1/2004
50. An Ode To Antares 1/1/2004
51. Sonnet Xvi: Who Shall Invoke Her 1/3/2003
52. After An Epigram Of Clement Marot 1/1/2004
53. Bellinglise 1/1/2004
54. Kyrenaikos 1/1/2004
55. Eudaemon 1/1/2004
56. Juvenilia, An Ode To Natural Beauty 1/1/2004
57. The Hosts 1/3/2003
58. On A Theme In The Greek Anthology 1/1/2004
59. The Deserted Garden 1/3/2003
60. All That's Not Love . . . 1/1/2004
61. With A Copy Of Shakespeare's Sonnets On Leaving College 1/1/2004
62. Translations: Dante - Inferno, Canto Xxvi 1/1/2004
63. Broceliande 1/1/2004
64. La Nue 1/1/2004
65. At The Tomb Of Napoleon 1/1/2004
66. I Loved... 1/1/2004
67. The Wanderer 1/3/2003
68. Paris 1/1/2004
69. Ode In Memory Of The American Volunteers Fallen For France 1/3/2003
70. Rendezvous 1/3/2003
71. A Message To America 1/1/2004
72. Champagne, 1914-15 1/3/2003
73. Do You Remember Once . . . 1/1/2004
74. Maktoob 1/3/2003
75. I Have A Rendezvous With Death 1/3/2003

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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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