John Crowe Ransom

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

Bells For John Whiteside's Daughter - Poem by John Crowe Ransom

There was such speed in her little body,
And such lightness in her footfall,
It is no wonder her brown study Astonishes us all

Her wars were bruited in our high window.
We looked among orchard trees and beyond
Where she took arms against her shadow,
Or harried unto the pond

The lazy geese, like a snow cloud
Dripping their snow on the green grass,
Tricking and stopping, sleepy and proud,
Who cried in goose, Alas,

For the tireless heart within the little
Lady with rod that made them rise
From their noon apple-dreams and scuttle
Goose-fashion under the skies!

But now go the bells, and we are ready,
In one house we are sternly stopped
To say we are vexed at her brown study,
Lying so primly propped.


Comments about Bells For John Whiteside's Daughter by John Crowe Ransom

  • (12/12/2017 5:45:00 PM)


    In September of 1965, my freshman English professor wrote this and another poem on the board. I loved it the moment I saw it, and 52 years later it still touches the strand of melancholy we carry in our hearts (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: snow, house, green, daughter, heart, war, dream, rose, sky, tree



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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