By Anthony Hecht
Anthony Hecht, now in his 80th yr, has earned a spot along such poets as W. H. Auden, Robert Frost, and Elizabeth Bishop. right here below one conceal are his 3 most up-to-date collections--The obvious guy, Flight one of the Tombs, and The Darkness and the Light. the suitable spouse to his Collected past Poems (continuously in print considering 1990), this ebook brings the eloquent sound of Hecht's track to undergo on a wide selection of human dramas: from a tender lady death of leukemia to the tangled amorous affairs of A Midsummer Night's Dream; from loss of life because the director of Hollywood movies to the unforeseen photo of Marcel Proust as a determine skater.
He glides with a gaining self belief, inscribes
Tentative passages, thinks back, backtracks,
Comes to a minute point,
Then wheels approximately in widening sweeps and lobes,
Large Palmer cursives and tender entrelacs,
On a refined, long-drawn type and pliant script
Incised with dual metal blades and qualified
Perfectly to express,
With hands flung large or gloved arms firmly gripped
Behind his again, attentively, clear-eyed,
A glancing happiness.
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Extra resources for Collected Later Poems
1969 A visit from the Muse At any moment, I’ll explode like TNT - The writer’s block will surely make me blow!
1972 The honor of the crown. Training I was yelling: “You’re insane! What happened? ” They responded from the sports department: “You can help to lead us from this mess! ” That’s all right! I surely won’t surrender, - In reserve, I have a sturdy knight. Oh, my muscles, strong and grand, Rapid fingers, brutal hooks! Carved and painted by hand Wooden castles, wooden rooks! My friend, the soccer player, told me: “He’s not used to playing such opponents. ” I started running, confidence obtaining, Lost some weight and never slept so fine, Hockey practices became sustaining...
1963 Silver strings As I carry my guitar – walls before me separate! I can see no freedom that evil fortune brings! You can cut my throat, you can slash my veins, irate, - But be careful not to rip my cherished silver strings! I'll dig myself into the dirt and disappear, perhaps, - Would you shield a tortured youth underneath your wings! They have climbed into my soul and tore it into scraps, I only hope they do not rip my cherished silver strings.
Collected Later Poems by Anthony Hecht