Christopher Pearse Cranch
Christopher Pearse Cranch (March 8, 1815 – January 20, 1892) was an American writer and artist.
Cranch was born in the District of Columbia. He attended Columbian College and Harvard Divinity School. He briefly held a position as a Unitarian minister. Later, he pursued various occupations: a magazine editor, caricaturist, children's fantasy writer (the Huggermugger books), poet (The Bird and the Bell with Other Poems in 1875), translator, and landscape painter. He lived most of his life in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
Though not one of its founding members, Cranch became associated with the Transcendental Club; his connection with the Transcendentalists ultimately ... more »
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Christopher Pearse Cranch Poems
Thought is deeper than all speech, Feeling deeper than all thought: Souls to souls never can teach What unto themselves was taught.
Across the sea the swift sad message darts And beats with sudden pang against our hearts. Under the elm-trees in his homestead old
A Word To Philosophers
COLD philosophers, so apt With your formulas exacting, In your problems so enwrapt, And your theories distracting;
Ormuzd And Ahriman. Part I
YE interstellar spaces, serene and still and clear. Above, below, around!
A Poet's Soliloquy
ON a time — not of old — When a poet had sent out his soul and no welcome had found Where the heart of the nation in prose stood fettered and
As once I sat upon the shore There came to me a fairy boat, A bark I never saw before, Whose coming I had failed to note,
Sonnet XXX. Life And Death. 2.
OR endless sleep 't will be, — and that is rest, Freedom forever from life's weary cares — Or else a life beyond the climbing stairs
Sonnet XI. The Printing-Press.
IN boyhood's days we read with keen delight How young Aladdin rubbed his lamp and raised The towering Djin whose form his soul amazed,
Sonnet XXIII. Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony...
THE mind's deep history here in tones is wrought, The faith, the struggles of the aspiring soul, The confidence of youth, the chill control
At The Grave Of Keats
To G. W. C. LONG, long ago, in the sweet Roman spring Through the bright morning air we slowly strolled,
Ralph Waldo Emerson
OUT of the cloud that dimmed his sunset light, Into the unknown firmament withdrawn Beyond the mists and shadows of the night,
Sonnet XLIII. London.
BLACK in the midnight lies the City vast. Its dim horizon from my window high I see shut in beneath a misty sky
1. COME, we 'll light the parlor fire; Winter sets in sharp and rough. Wood is dear, but coal's provided,
Ormuzd And Ahriman. The Overture.
HAD I, instead of unsonorous words, The skill that moves in rapturous melodies, And modulations of entrancing chords
Comments about Christopher Pearse Cranch
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Thought is deeper than all speech,
Feeling deeper than all thought:
Souls to souls never can teach
What unto themselves was taught.
We are spirits clad in veils;
Man by man was never seen;
All our deep communing fails
To remove the shadowy screen.
Heart to heart was never known;
Mind with mind did never meet;
We are columns left alone
Of a temple once complete.
Like the stars that gem the sky,
Far apart though seeming near,
In our light we scattered lie;
All is thus but starlight here.
What is social company
But a babbling ...