John Crowe Ransom
John Crowe Ransom Poems
|42.||An American Addresses Philomela||3/31/2010|
|43.||Emily Hardcastle, Spinster||3/31/2010|
|44.||Conrad In Twilight||1/3/2003|
|48.||Prelude To An Evening||1/3/2003|
|54.||Bells For John Whiteside's Daughter||1/3/2003|
Comments about John Crowe Ransom
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 ...
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.