The fact that The Bridge contains folk lore and other material suitable to the epic form need not therefore prove its failure… — Hart Crane Copy Share Image
The form of my poem rises out of a past that so overwhelms the present with its worth and vision that I'm… — Hart Crane Copy Share Image
There are several more careers more engaging to follow than that of poetry. But the circumstances of one's birth, the conduct of… — Hart Crane Copy Share Image
And inasmuch as the bridge is a symbol of all such poetry as I am interested in writing it is my present… — Hart Crane Copy Share Image
“O sleepless as the river under thee, / Vaulting the sea, the prairies' dreaming sod, / Onto us lowliest sometime sweep, descend / And… — Hart Crane Copy Share Image
And I have been able to give freedom and life which was acknowledged in the ecstasy of walking hand in hand across the most… — Hart Crane Copy Share Image
And so she comes to dream herself the tree, The wind possessing her, weaving her young veins, Holding her to the sky and its… — Hart Crane Copy Share Image
“My Grandmother's Love Letters" There are no stars tonight But those of memory. Yet how much room for memory there is In the loose… — Hart Crane Copy Share Image
It has taken a great deal of energy, which has not been so difficult to summon as the necessary patience to wait, simply wait… — Hart Crane Copy Share Image
I think the sea has thrown itself upon me and been answered, at least in part, and I believe I am a little changed… — Hart Crane Copy Share Image
“How many dawns, chill from his rippling rest The seagull’s wings shall dip and pivot him, Shedding white rings of tumult, building high Over… — Hart Crane Copy Share Image
And so it was I entered the broken world To trace the visionary company of love, its voice An instant in the wind (I… — Hart Crane Copy Share Image
“I wanted you, nameless Woman of the South, No wraith, but utterly—as still more alone The Southern Cross takes night And lifts her girdles… — Hart Crane Copy Share Image
Stars scribble on our eyes the frosty sagas, The gleaming cantos of unvanquished space. (Cape Hatteras — Hart Crane Copy Share Image
