Stephen Vincent Benet

(1898 - 1943 / Pennsylvania / United States)

Stephen Vincent Benet Poems

1. Nos Immortales 1/3/2003
2. The Falconer Of God 3/30/2010
3. Rain After A Vaudeville Show 1/3/2003
4. The Fiddling Wood 3/30/2010
5. The General Public 1/3/2003
6. The City Revisited 1/3/2003
7. Portrait Of A Boy 1/3/2003
8. Portrait Of A Baby 1/3/2003
9. Three Day's Ride 3/30/2010
10. Nightmare Number Three 3/30/2010
11. The Congressmen Came Out To See Bull Run 3/30/2010
12. The Mountain Whippoorwill 3/7/2012
13. The Innovator 1/3/2003
14. The Drug-Shop, Or, Endymion In Edmonstoun 1/3/2003
15. The Fiddling Wood 1/3/2003
16. The Hemp 1/3/2003
17. Road And Hills 1/3/2003
18. The White Peacock 1/3/2003
19. Talk 1/3/2003
20. Campus Sonnets: May Morning 3/30/2010
21. The Quality Of Courage 1/3/2003
22. American Names 1/17/2015
23. Robert E. Lee 3/30/2010
24. The Ballad Of William Sycamore [1790-1871] 3/30/2010
25. Young Blood 1/3/2003
26. The Breaking Point 1/3/2003
27. The Lover In Hell 1/3/2003
28. Winged Man 1/3/2003
29. Campus Sonnets: Before An Examination 3/30/2010
30. Ghosts Of A Lunatic Asylum 3/30/2010
31. Campus Sonnets: Return - 1917 3/30/2010
32. Campus Sonnets: Talk 3/30/2010
33. Dedication 1/3/2003
34. Alexander Vi Dines With The Cardinal Of Capua 1/3/2003
35. Army Of Northern Virginia 3/30/2010
36. Elegy For An Enemy 3/30/2010
37. 1936 3/30/2010
38. Poor Devil! 1/3/2003
39. Return - 1917 1/3/2003
40. Metropolitan Nightmare 3/30/2010
Best Poem of Stephen Vincent Benet

Colors

(For D. M. C.)

The little man with the vague beard and guise
Pulled at the wicket. "Come inside!" he said,
"I'll show you all we've got now -- it was size
You wanted? -- oh, dry colors! Well" -- he led
To a dim alley lined with musty bins,
And pulled one fiercely. Violent and bold
A sudden tempest of mad, shrieking sins
Scarlet screamed out above the battered gold
Of tins and picture-frames. I held my breath.
He tugged another hard -- and sapphire skies
Spread in vast quietude, serene as death,
O'er waves like crackled turquoise -- and my ...

Read the full of Colors

The White Peacock

(France -- Ancient Regime.)

I.

Go away!
Go away; I will not confess to you!
His black biretta clings like a hangman's cap; under his twitching fingers the beads shiver and click,
As he mumbles in his corner, the shadow deepens upon him;
I will not confess! . . .

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