Withal a meagre man was Aaron Stark, -- Cursed and unkempt, shrewd, shrivelled, and morose. A miser was he, with a miser's nose, And eyes like little dollars in the dark.…
Edwin Arlington Robinson was an American poet who won three Pulitzer Prizes for his work. Biography Robinson was born in Head Tide, Lincoln County, Maine, but his family moved to Gardiner, Maine, in 1870. He described his childhood in Maine as "stark and unhappy": his parents, having wanted a girl, did not name him until he was six months old, when they visited a holiday resort; other vacationers decided that he should have a name, and selected a man from Arlington, Massachusetts to draw a name out of a hat. Robinson's early difficulties led many of his poems to have a dark pessimism and his stories to deal with "an American dream gone awry". His brother Dean died of a drug overdose. His other brother, Herman, a handsome and charismatic man, married the woman Edwin himself loved, but Herman suffered business failures, became an alcoholic, and ended up estranged from his wife and children, dying impoverished in a charity hospital in 1901. Robinson's poem "Richard Cory" is thought to refer to this brother. In late 1891, at the age of 21, Edwin entered Harvard University as a special student. He took classes in English, French, and Shakespeare, as well as one on Anglo-Saxon that he later dropped. His mission was not to get all A's, as he wrote his friend Harry Smith, "B, and in that vicinity, is a very comfortable and safe place to hang". His real desire was to get published in one of the Harvard literary journals. Within the first fortnight of being there, The Harvard Advocate published Robinson's "Ballade of a Ship". He was even invited to meet with the editors, but when he returned he complained to his friend Mowry Saben, "I sat there among them, unable to say a word". Robinson's literary career had false-started. Edwin's father, Edward, died after Edwin's first year at Harvard. Edwin returned to Harvard for a second year, but it was to be his last one as a student there. Though short, his stay in Cambridge included some of his most cherished experiences, and there he made his most lasting friendships. He wrote his friend Harry Smith on June 21, 1893: I suppose this is the last letter I shall ever write you from Harvard. The thought seems a little queer, but it cannot be otherwise. Sometimes I try to imagine the state my mind would be in had I never come here, but I cannot. I feel that I have got comparatively little from my two years, but still, more than I could get in Gardiner if I lived a century. Robinson had returned to Gardiner by mid-1893. He had plans to start writing seriously. In October he wrote his friend Gledhill: Writing has been my dream ever since I was old enough to lay a plan for an air castle. Now for the first time I seem to have something like a favorable opportunity and this winter I shall make a beginning. With his father gone, Edwin became the man of the household. He tried farming and developed a close relationship with his brother's wife Emma Robinson, who after her husband Herman's death moved back to Gardiner with her children. She twice rejected marriage proposals from Edwin, after which he permanently left Gardiner. He moved to New York, where he led a precarious existence as an impoverished poet while cultivating friendships with other writers, artists, and would-be intellectuals. In 1896 he self-published his first book, The Torrent and the Night Before, paying 100 dollars for 500 copies. Robinson meant it as a surprise for his mother. Days before the copies arrived, Mary Palmer Robinson died of diphtheria. His second volume, The Children of the Night, had a somewhat wider circulation. Its readers included President Theodore Roosevelt's son Kermit, who recommended it to his father. Impressed by the poems and aware of Robinson's straits, Roosevelt in 1905 secured the writer a job at the New York Customs Office. Robinson remained in the job until Roosevelt left office. Gradually his literary successes began to mount. He won the Pulitzer Prize three times in the 1920s. During the last twenty years of his life he became a regular summer resident at the MacDowell Colony in New Hampshire, where several women made him the object of their devoted attention, but he maintained a solitary life and never married. Robinson died of cancer on April 6, 1935 in the New York Hospital (now New York Cornell Hospital) in New York City. Recognition Edwin Arlington Robinson won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry three times: in 1922 for his first Collected Poems, in 1925 for The Man Who Died Twice, and in 1928 for Tristram.)
- Poetry
- The Torrent and the Night Before (1896)
- The Children of the Night (1897)
- Captain Craig and Other Poems (1902)
- The Town Down the River (1910)
- Van Zorn (1914)
- The Porcupine (1915)
- The Man Against the Sky (1916)
- Merlin (1917)
- The Three Taverns (1920)
- Avon's Harvest (1921)
- Collected Poems (1921)
- Roman Bartholomew (1923)
- The Man Who Died Twice (1924)
- Dionysus in Doubt (1925)
- Tristram (1927)
- Fortunatus (1928)
- Sonnets, 1889–1917 (1928)
- Cavender’s House (1929)
- Modred (1929)
- The Glory of the Nightingales (1930)
- Matthias at the Door (1931)
- Selected Poems (1931)
- Talifer (1933)
- Amaranth (1934)
- King Jasper (1935)
- Collected Poems (1937)
- Letters
- Selected Letters (1940)
- Untriangulated Stars: Letters to Harry de Forest Smith 1890–1905 (1947)
- Edwin Arlington Robinson’s Letters to Edith Brower (1968)
- Poetry & Prose
- Uncollected Poems and Prose (1975)
Edwin Arlington Robinson şiirleri
We parted where the old gas-lamp still burned Under the wayside maple and walked on, Into the dark, as we had always done; And I, no doubt, if he had not returned,…
When these graven lines you see, Traveller, do not pity me; Though I be among the dead, Let no mournful word be said.…
He knocked, and I beheld him at the door-- A vision for the gods to verify. "What battered ancient is this," thought I, "And when, if ever, did we meet before?"…
Once, when I wandered in the woods alone, An old man tottered up to me and said, “Come, friend, and see the grave that I have made For Amaryllis.” There was in the tone…
“Why am I not myself these many days, You ask? And have you nothing more to ask? I do you wrong? I do not hear your praise To God for giving you me to share your task?…
(SAINT HELENA, 1821) Take it away, and swallow it yourself.…
Strange that I did not know him then. That friend of mine! I did not even show him then One friendly sign;…
Think not, because I wonder where you fled, That I would lift a pin to see you there; You may, for me, be prowling anywhere, So long as you show not your little head:…
Old Archibald, in his eternal chair, Where trespassers, whatever their degree, Were soon frowned out again, was looking off Across the clover when he said to me:…
ALCESTIS Shall I never make him look at me again?…
Two men came out of Shannon's, having known The faces of each other for so long As they had listened there to an old song, Sung thinly in a wastrel monotone…
The Master played the bishop’s pawn, For jest, while Atherton looked on; The master played this way and that, And Atherton, amazed thereat,…
Aunt Imogen was coming, and therefore The children—Jane, Sylvester, and Young George— Were eyes and ears; for there was only one Aunt Imogen to them in the whole world,…
Fear, like a living fire that only death Might one day cool, had now in Avon’s eyes Been witness for so long of an invasion That made of a gay friend whom we had known…
15 / 177 gösteriliyor