Trumbull Stickney
Trumbull Stickney was an American poet and scholar, known for his lyrical and often introspective verse that explored themes of nature, love, and the human condition. Born in 1874 in Massachusetts, he was a precocious talent, graduating from Harvard University and later studying at the University of Paris. Stickney's poetry, characterized by its musicality and emotional depth, often reflected his personal struggles and philosophical inquiries, making him a significant figure in early 20th-century American literature. His notable works include the collections 'The Poems of Trumbull Stickney' and 'The Heart of the World,' which showcase his ability to blend classical influences with modern sensibilities. Despite his relatively short life—he died at the age of 30—Stickney's work has been recognized for its innovative use of language and form, influencing a generation of poets who followed. His legacy endures as a testament to the power of poetic expression, and he remains an important figure in the canon of American poetry, celebrated for his unique voice and profound insights into the human experience.
Famous Quotes
View all 3 quotes“T IME'S a circumferenceWhereof the segment of our station seemsA long straight line from nothing into naught.Therefore we say " progress, " " infinity "”
“Live blindly and upon the hour. The Lord,Who was the Future, died full long ago.Knowledge which is the Past is folly. Go,Poor, child, and be not to thyself abhorred.Around thine earth sun-winged winds do blowAnd planets roll; a meteor draws his sword;The rainbow breaks his seven-coloured chordAnd the long strips of river-silver flow:Awake! Give thyself to the lovely hours.Drinking their lips, catch thou the dream in flightAbout their fragile hairs' aerial gold.Thou art divine, thou livest,”
“Now burst above the city's cold twilightThe piercing whistles and the tower-clocks:For day is done. Along the frozen docksThe workmen set their ragged shirts aright.Thro' factory doors a stream of dingy lightFollows the scrimmage as it quickly flocksTo hut and home among the snow's gray blocks. --I love you, human labourers. Good-night!Good-night to all the blackened arms that ache!Good-night to every sick and sweated brow,To the poor girl that strength and love forsake,To the poor boy who can no more! I vowThe victim soon shall shudder at the stakeAnd fall in blood: we bring him even now.””
