Archibald MacLeish

(7 May 1892 – 20 April 1982 / Glencoe, Illinois)

Archibald MacLeish Poems

1. Hurricane 12/12/2015
2. A Poet Speaks from the Visitors' Gallery 6/22/2015
3. Imagery 11/26/2015
4. Seafarer 2/7/2014
5. Way-Station 4/7/2010
6. Voyage 4/7/2010
7. The Sheep In The Ruins 4/7/2010
8. De Votre Bonheur Il Ne Reste Que Vos Photos Sipsce… 4/7/2010
9. Before March 4/7/2010
10. Nocturne 4/7/2010
11. The Night Dream 4/7/2010
12. Lines For A Prologue 4/7/2010
13. The Silent Slain 4/7/2010
14. Definition Of The Frontiers 4/7/2010
15. The Rock In The Sea 4/7/2010
16. Ancestral 4/7/2010
17. L'An Trentiesme De Mon Eage 4/7/2010
18. The Old Men In The Leaf Smoke 4/7/2010
19. Liberty 4/7/2010
20. Unfinished History 4/7/2010
21. Immortal Autumn 4/7/2010
22. Autumn 4/7/2010
23. Not Marble Nor The Gilded Monuments 4/7/2010
24. Broken Promise 4/7/2010
25. Invocation To The Social Muse 4/7/2010
26. The Too-Late Born 1/3/2003
27. Hypocrite Auteur 4/7/2010
28. Poem In Prose 1/3/2003
29. The Snowflake Which Is Now And Hence Forever 1/3/2003
30. You, Andrew Marvell 1/3/2003
31. Two Poems From The War 1/3/2003
32. Dr. Sigmund Freud Discovers The Sea Shell 1/3/2003
33. Baccalaureate 1/3/2003
34. An Eternity 1/3/2003
35. The Young Dead Soldiers Do Not Speak 4/7/2010
36. The End Of The World 1/3/2003
37. Ars Poetica 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Archibald MacLeish

Ars Poetica

A poem should be palpable and mute
As a globed fruit

Dumb
As old medallions to the thumb

Silent as the sleeve-worn stone
Of casement ledges where the moss has grown -

A poem should be wordless
As the flight of birds

A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs

Leaving, as the moon releases
Twig by twig the night-entangled trees,

Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves,
Memory by memory the mind -

A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs

A poem should be equal to:
Not true

For...

Read the full of Ars Poetica

You, Andrew Marvell

And here face down beneath the sun
And here upon earth's noonward height
To feel the always coming on
The always rising of the night:

To feel creep up the curving east
The earthy chill of dusk and slow
Upon those under lands the vast
And ever climbing shadow grow

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