Stephen Vincent Benet

(1898 - 1943 / Pennsylvania / United States)

Stephen Vincent Benet Poems

1. Minor Litany 8/31/2015
2. Nos Immortales 1/3/2003
3. The Falconer Of God 3/30/2010
4. Rain After A Vaudeville Show 1/3/2003
5. Three Day's Ride 3/30/2010
6. Portrait Of A Boy 1/3/2003
7. The General Public 1/3/2003
8. The City Revisited 1/3/2003
9. Portrait Of A Baby 1/3/2003
10. The Drug-Shop, Or, Endymion In Edmonstoun 1/3/2003
11. The Congressmen Came Out To See Bull Run 3/30/2010
12. The Fiddling Wood 1/3/2003
13. The Hemp 1/3/2003
14. The White Peacock 1/3/2003
15. Robert E. Lee 3/30/2010
16. Winged Man 1/3/2003
17. Talk 1/3/2003
18. Campus Sonnets: May Morning 3/30/2010
19. Road And Hills 1/3/2003
20. Young Blood 1/3/2003
21. Ghosts Of A Lunatic Asylum 3/30/2010
22. The Breaking Point 1/3/2003
23. The Quality Of Courage 1/3/2003
24. Campus Sonnets: Before An Examination 3/30/2010
25. Alexander Vi Dines With The Cardinal Of Capua 1/3/2003
26. The Innovator 1/3/2003
27. Campus Sonnets: Return - 1917 3/30/2010
28. The Ballad Of William Sycamore [1790-1871] 3/30/2010
29. Campus Sonnets: Talk 3/30/2010
30. 1936 3/30/2010
31. Dedication 1/3/2003
32. The Lover In Hell 1/3/2003
33. Poor Devil! 1/3/2003
34. Army Of Northern Virginia 3/30/2010
35. American Names 1/17/2015
36. Nightmare Number Three 3/30/2010
37. Return - 1917 1/3/2003
38. Before An Examination 1/3/2003
39. Difference 3/30/2010
40. The Mountain Whippoorwill 3/7/2012

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Best Poem of Stephen Vincent Benet

Colors

(For D. M. C.)

The little man with the vague beard and guise
Pulled at the wicket. "Come inside!" he said,
"I'll show you all we've got now -- it was size
You wanted? -- oh, dry colors! Well" -- he led
To a dim alley lined with musty bins,
And pulled one fiercely. Violent and bold
A sudden tempest of mad, shrieking sins
Scarlet screamed out above the battered gold
Of tins and picture-frames. I held my breath.
He tugged another hard -- and sapphire skies
Spread in vast quietude, serene as death,
O'er waves like crackled turquoise -- and my ...

Read the full of Colors

The White Peacock

(France -- Ancient Regime.)

I.

Go away!
Go away; I will not confess to you!
His black biretta clings like a hangman's cap; under his twitching fingers the beads shiver and click,
As he mumbles in his corner, the shadow deepens upon him;
I will not confess! . . .

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