John Crowe Ransom

(30 April 1888 - 3 July 1974 / Pulaski Tennessee)

John Crowe Ransom Poems

1. A Christmas Colloquy 3/31/2010
2. An American Addresses Philomela 3/31/2010
3. April 3/31/2010
4. April Treason 3/31/2010
5. Bells For John Whiteside's Daughter 1/3/2003
6. Blue Girls 1/3/2003
7. By The Riverside 3/31/2010
8. Captain Carpenter 1/3/2003
9. Conrad In Twilight 1/3/2003
10. Darkness 3/31/2010
11. Dead Boy 1/3/2003
12. Dumb-Bells 3/31/2010
13. Eclogue 3/31/2010
14. Emily Hardcastle, Spinster 3/31/2010
15. Friendship 3/31/2010
16. Geometry 3/31/2010
17. Grace 3/31/2010
18. Janet Waking 3/31/2010
19. Judith Of Bethulia 3/31/2010
20. Men 3/31/2010
21. Miriam Tazewell 3/31/2010
22. Moonlight 3/31/2010
23. Morning 3/31/2010
24. Necrological 1/3/2003
25. Noonday Grace 3/31/2010
26. November 3/31/2010
27. One Who Rejects Christ 3/31/2010
28. Overtures 3/31/2010
29. Painted Head 1/3/2003
30. Piazza Piece 1/3/2003
31. Prayer 3/31/2010
32. Prelude To An Evening 1/3/2003
33. Romance Of A Youngest Daughter 3/31/2010
34. Roses 3/31/2010
35. Sickness 3/31/2010
36. Spectral Lovers 3/31/2010
37. Street Light 3/31/2010
38. Sunset 3/31/2010
39. The Bachelor 3/31/2010
40. The Christian 3/31/2010

Comments about John Crowe Ransom

  • Keith Westwood (7/17/2019 10:49:00 AM)

    This poet did not post any poems in the last 14 days.
    He died in 1974!

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
Best Poem of John Crowe Ransom

Blue Girls

Twirling your blue skirts, travelling the sward
Under the towers of your seminary,
Go listen to your teachers old and contrary
Without believing a word.

Tie the white fillets then about your hair
And think no more of what will come to pass
Than bluebirds that go walking on the grass
And chattering on the air.

Practice your beauty, blue girls, before it fail;
And I will cry with my loud lips and publish
Beauty which all our power shall never establish,
It is so frail.

For I could tell you a story which is true;
I know a woman with ...

Read the full of Blue Girls

The Equilibrists

Full of her long white arms and milky skin
He had a thousand times remembered sin.
Alone in the press of people traveled he,
Minding her jacinth, and myrrh, and ivory.

Mouth he remembered: the quaint orifice
From which came heat that flamed upon the kiss,
Till cold words came down spiral from the head.
Grey doves from the officious tower illsped.

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