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Edith Wharton: Selected Poems: (American Poets Project #18) by
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Meredith is a hot mess
is on page 17 of 352
Dread hour that lead'st the immemorial round,
With lifted torch revealing one by one
The thronging splendours that day held bound,
And how each blue abyss enshrines its sun-
...
And let this year be, not the last of youth,
But first--like thee--of some new trained hours,
If remote from hope, yet nearer truth,
And kin to unpetitionable powers.
(1908)
— Dec 16, 2022 09:30AM
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With lifted torch revealing one by one
The thronging splendours that day held bound,
And how each blue abyss enshrines its sun-
...
And let this year be, not the last of youth,
But first--like thee--of some new trained hours,
If remote from hope, yet nearer truth,
And kin to unpetitionable powers.
(1908)
Meredith is a hot mess
is on page 14 of 352
For if I love thee thou wilt sooner die;
Some sudden ruin will plunge upon thy head,
Midnight will fall from the revengeful sky
And hurl thee down among thy shuddering dead
Avert thine eyes. Lapse softly from my sight.
Call not my name, nor heed if thine I crave,
So shall thou sink through mitigated night
And bathe thee in the all-effacing wave.
— Dec 16, 2022 09:23AM
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Some sudden ruin will plunge upon thy head,
Midnight will fall from the revengeful sky
And hurl thee down among thy shuddering dead
Avert thine eyes. Lapse softly from my sight.
Call not my name, nor heed if thine I crave,
So shall thou sink through mitigated night
And bathe thee in the all-effacing wave.
Meredith is a hot mess
is on page 14 of 352
Why Linger here?
Go hence in silence. Veil thine orphaned face.
Lest I should look and call it dear.
— Dec 16, 2022 09:22AM
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Go hence in silence. Veil thine orphaned face.
Lest I should look and call it dear.
Meredith is a hot mess
is on page 14 of 352
Yet see--night is not. . .by translucent ways.
Up the gray void of autumn afternoon
steals a mild crescent, charioted in haze,
And all the air is merciful as June.
The lake is a forgotten streak of day.
That trembles through the hemlocks' darkling bars,
And still, my heart, still some divine delay
Upon the threshold holds the earliest stars.
— Dec 16, 2022 09:18AM
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Up the gray void of autumn afternoon
steals a mild crescent, charioted in haze,
And all the air is merciful as June.
The lake is a forgotten streak of day.
That trembles through the hemlocks' darkling bars,
And still, my heart, still some divine delay
Upon the threshold holds the earliest stars.
Meredith is a hot mess
is on page 14 of 352
*Moonrise over Tyringham
But now the day is emptied of them all,
And night absorbs their life-blood as a draught;
And so my life lies, as the gods let fall
An empty cup from which their lips have quaffed.
-I like her sunset poems. She symbolizes sunset, the coming of night, the hour of the wolf, to the human experience with beautiful imagery
— Dec 16, 2022 09:15AM
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But now the day is emptied of them all,
And night absorbs their life-blood as a draught;
And so my life lies, as the gods let fall
An empty cup from which their lips have quaffed.
-I like her sunset poems. She symbolizes sunset, the coming of night, the hour of the wolf, to the human experience with beautiful imagery
Meredith is a hot mess
is on page 12 of 352
*An Autumn Sunset
Leaguered in fire
The wild black promontories of the coast extend
Their savage silhouttes;
The sun in universal carnage sets,
And halting higher,
The motionless storm-clouds mass their sullen threats.
— Dec 16, 2022 09:08AM
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Leaguered in fire
The wild black promontories of the coast extend
Their savage silhouttes;
The sun in universal carnage sets,
And halting higher,
The motionless storm-clouds mass their sullen threats.
Meredith is a hot mess
is on page 7 of 352
*Segesta p.7
No ruin but a vision unachieved
This temple is a house not made with hands
But born of a man's incorrigible need
For permanence and beauty in the scud
And wreckage of mortality
— Dec 15, 2022 09:53PM
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No ruin but a vision unachieved
This temple is a house not made with hands
But born of a man's incorrigible need
For permanence and beauty in the scud
And wreckage of mortality
Meredith is a hot mess
is starting
But it was in her poetry she revealed the strangest, deepest visions that haunted her...she added strangeness to beauty in search of a way to convey the ineffable.
— Dec 15, 2022 04:39PM
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Meredith is a hot mess
is starting
In "La Folle du Logis" she called it a "wild, winged thing," a "divine accomplice" perpetually inhabiting her; in her memoir it was a "furious Muse" that drove her to run away from other children so that she could "make up."
— Dec 15, 2022 04:37PM
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Meredith is a hot mess
is starting
The land of her poems is deeper, more heartfelt, and quite different from the land of her stories. It is a romantic place, sublime, mythic, and often painful.
— Dec 15, 2022 03:59PM
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