Allen Tate Quotes

Eat cannon and cornflakes, that the lamb, Spaceless as snow, may spare the rational earth (Weary of prodigies and the Holy Runt) A second prodigious, two-legged birth.
Allen Tate (1899-1979), U.S. poet, critic. "Fragment of a Meditation."
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In the centre of his cage The pacing animal Surveys the jungle cove And slicks his slithering wiles To turn the venereal awl In the livid wound of love.
Allen Tate (1899-1979), U.S. poet, critic. "Seasons of the Soul."
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For now the languid stertorous Pale verses of Propertius And the sapphire corpse undressed by Donne (Prefiguring Rimbaud's etymon) Have shrunk to an apotheosis Of cold daylight after the kiss.
Allen Tate (1899-1979), U.S. poet, critic. "V. Epilogue to nia."
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The wisdom of history, how she takes Each epoch by the neck and, growling, shakes It like a rat while she faintly mews.
Allen Tate (1899-1979), U.S. poet, critic. "Fragment of a Meditation."
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Irritable spring, infuse Into the burning breast Your combustible juice....
Allen Tate (1899-1979), U.S. poet, critic. "Seasons of the Soul."
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The fire I praise was once perduring flame Till it snuffs with our generation out; No matter, it's all one, it's but a name Not as late honeysuckle half so stout....
Allen Tate (1899-1979), U.S. poet, critic. "VII" ("Sonnets of the Blood").
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Then suddenly the noon turns afternoon And afternoon like an ill-written page Will fade, until the very stain of light Gathers in all the venom of the night The equilibrium of the thirtieth age.
Allen Tate (1899-1979), U.S. poet, critic. "Fragment of a Meditation."
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Is it a new spring star Within the timing chill, Talking, or just a mime, That rises in the blood Thin Jack-and-Jilling seas Without the human will?
Allen Tate (1899-1979), U.S. poet, critic. "Seasons of the Soul."
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Death is untutored, with an ignorant frown For precious identities of breath.
Allen Tate (1899-1979), U.S. poet, critic. "VIII" ("Sonnets of the Blood").
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Not yet the thirtieth year, the thirtieth Station where time reverses his light heels To run both ways, and makes of forward back; Whose long co-ordinates are birth and death....
Allen Tate (1899-1979), U.S. poet, critic. "Fragment of a Meditation."
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