Allen Tate

(19 November 1899 - 9 February 1979 / Winchester, Kentucky)

Allen Tate Poems

1. More Sonnets At Christmas Iii 4/21/2010
2. Sonnets Of The Blood Iii 4/21/2010
3. Sonnets Of The Blood Ix 4/21/2010
4. Sonnets Of The Blood V 4/21/2010
5. Sonnets Of The Blood V 4/21/2010
6. Sonnets Of The Blood Vi 4/21/2010
7. Sonnets Of The Blood Vii 4/21/2010
8. Sonnets Of The Blood Vii 4/21/2010
9. Sonnets Of The Blood Ii 4/21/2010
10. More Sonnets At Christmas Iv 4/21/2010
11. Message From Abroad 4/21/2010
12. Homily 4/21/2010
13. Pastoral 4/21/2010
14. Records 4/21/2010
15. Retroduction To American History 4/21/2010
16. Sonnets Of The Blood I 4/21/2010
17. More Sonnets At Christmas I 4/21/2010
18. Horatian Epode To The Duchess Of Malfi 4/21/2010
19. Fragment Of A Meditation 4/21/2010
20. Causerie 4/21/2010
21. Sonnet To Beauty 4/21/2010
22. Sonnets At Christmas I 4/21/2010
23. Seasons Of The Soul 4/21/2010
24. Mother And Son 4/21/2010
25. Farewell To Anactoria 4/21/2010
26. Inside And Outside 4/21/2010
27. Jubilo 4/21/2010
28. Emblems 4/21/2010
29. Correspondences 4/21/2010
30. Ditty 4/21/2010
31. The Trout Map 4/21/2010
32. Sonnets At Christmas Ii 4/21/2010
33. More Sonnets At Christmas Ii 4/21/2010
34. Eclogue Of The Liberal And The Poet 4/21/2010
35. A Pauper 4/21/2010
36. Ignis Fatuus 4/21/2010
37. The Progress Of Œnia 4/21/2010
38. The Ancestors 4/21/2010
39. Sonnets Of The Blood Viii 4/21/2010
40. A Carrion 4/21/2010
Best Poem of Allen Tate

Ode To The Confederate Dead

Row after row with strict impunity
The headstones yield their names to the element,
The wind whirrs without recollection;
In the riven troughs the splayed leaves
Pile up, of nature the casual sacrament
To the seasonal eternity of death;
Then driven by the fierce scrutiny
Of heaven to their election in the vast breath,
They sough the rumour of mortality.

Autumn is desolation in the plot
Of a thousand acres where these memories grow
From the inexhaustible bodies that are not
Dead, but feed the grass row after rich row.
Think of the autumns that have ...

Read the full of Ode To The Confederate Dead

Art

When you are come by ways emptied of light
You'll say goodby, in that indifferent gloom,
To the quick draughts of old, yet with polite
Anguish of pride recall as an heirloom
A dawn when stars dropped gold about your head
And, so amazed, you knew not were you dead.

For, brother, know that this is art, and you
With a cold incautious sorrow stricken dumb,

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