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Alan Seeger

Alan Seeger

Alan Seeger was an American war poet renowned for his poignant reflections on the experience of combat during World War I. Born into a family of artists and intellectuals, he was the brother of children's author Elizabeth Seeger and musicologist Charles Seeger, and the uncle of influential folk musicians Pete, Peggy, and Mike Seeger. Seeger left the United States to join the French Foreign Legion, where he served with valor and ultimately lost his life during the Battle of the Somme. His most celebrated work, 'I Have a Rendezvous with Death,' captures the tension between the beauty of life and the inevitability of death, earning him a lasting place in American poetry and admiration from figures such as President John F. Kennedy. Seeger's legacy extends beyond his poetry; he symbolizes the spirit of American volunteers who fought for France before the U.S. entered the war. A statue in Paris commemorates his sacrifice alongside other American soldiers who perished in the conflict. Often compared to the British poet Rupert Brooke, Seeger’s work reflects a romantic idealism intertwined with the harsh realities of war, making him a significant figure in the canon of war literature. His contributions continue to resonate, reminding readers of the profound impact of conflict on the human spirit.

Wikipedia

Alan Seeger (22 June 1888 – 4 July 1916) was an American war poet who fought and died in World War I during the Battle o...

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Famous Quotes

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“I have a rendezvous with Death At some disputed barricade, When Spring comes back with rustling shade And apple-blossoms fill the air — I have a rendezvous with Death When Spring brings back blue days and fair. It may be he shall take my hand And lead me into his dark land And close my eyes and quench my breath — It may be I shall pass him still. I have a rendezvous with Death On some scarred slope of battered hill, When Spring comes round again this year And the first meadow-flowers appear. God knows 'twere better to be deep Pillowed in silk and scented down, Where love throbs out in blissful sleep, Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath, Where hushed awakenings are dear... But I've a rendezvous with Death At midnight in some flaming town, When Spring trips north again this year, And I to my pledged word am true, I shall not fail that rendezvous.”

“I have a rendezvous with death... I will not fail that rendezvous”

“I hope you see the thing as I do, and think that I have done well, being without responsibilities and with no one to suffer materially by my decision, in taking upon my shoulders, too, the burden that so much of humanity is suffering under, and, rather than stand ingloriously aside when the opportunity was given me, doing my share for the side that I think right. . . .”

“I have a rendezvous with Death At some disputed barricade, When Spring comes back with rustling shade And apple-blossoms fill the air — I have a rendezvous with Death When Spring brings back blue days and fair. It may be he shall take my hand And lead me into his dark land And close my eyes and quench my breath — It may be I shall pass him still. I have a rendezvous with Death On some scarred slope of battered hill, When Spring comes round again this year And the first meadow-flowers appear. God knows 'twere better to be deep Pillowed in silk and scented down, Where love throbs out in blissful sleep, Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath, Where hushed awakenings are dear... But I've a rendezvous with Death At midnight in some flaming town, When Spring trips north again this year, And I to my pledged word am true, I shall not fail that rendezvous.”

“I have a rendezvous with death... I will not fail that rendezvous”

“I hope you see the thing as I do, and think that I have done well, being without responsibilities and with no one to suffer materially by my decision, in taking upon my shoulders, too, the burden that so much of humanity is suffering under, and, rather than stand ingloriously aside when the opportunity was given me, doing my share for the side that I think right. . . .”

Books from the author

Poems

1916

Alan Seeger

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