All night they marched, the infantrymen under pack, But the hands gripping the rifles were naked bone And the hollow pits of the eyes stared, vacant and black, When the moonlight s…
Stephen Vincent Benét was an American writer who packed a great deal into his relatively short lifetime which spanned the first half of the 20th century. Remarkably he had his first collection of poems published when aged only 17 and his final, epic piece of work (Western Star), won him the Pulitzer Prize even though it was unfinished when he died in 1943. The award was posthumous and recognised the significance of Benét’s view that the dominant force in American history up to that time was the frontier. He was born in July 1898 in the town of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. Benét’s family history was pretty much military-based. His father was a Colonel in the US Army and his mother came from a military family in Kentucky. Almost inevitably, Stephen was sent to a military academy with his parents, no doubt, hoping that he would continue the family tradition of soldiering. Perhaps he was too young, having been sent there at the age of ten. He just did not take to the environment, disliking the overt brutality of the place. He later wrote a poem about school brutality, substituting the poet Shelley for himself. It included the following lines: Despite his bad experiences at the Academy he did try to get into the Army but was turned down due to defective vision. Reading good literature was very much part of Stephen’s home life and both parents actively encouraged him to read and write. His first collection of poetry was published in 1915 with the title Five Men and Pompey and was influenced both by other modern realism poets and romantic ones like William Morris. By 1919 Benét was onto his THIRD collection of poetry and he graduated with an MA from Yale University with this collection being his chosen thesis. He went on to be a successful novelist as well as a poet and, later did some screenwriting for Hollywood movies. He spent time in France between 1921 and 1923 and it was here that he met another writer who was to become his wife (Rosemary Carr). One of his novels was a historical tale about Florida in the 18th century and harked back to the time when his ancestors settled there. His grandfather originated from the Spanish island of Minorca and the novel Spanish Bayonet (published 1926) was all about this period of history. He also had a keen interest in the American Civil War and it was while he was once again resident in France that he wrote his Pulitzer Prize-winning poem, called John Brown’s Body. It was a powerful piece of writing focusing on the war but not from a soldier’s point of view. Instead it was a war story seen through the eyes of a young, small town boy and included the lines: One of Benét’s most significant pieces of work though was American Names which ended in the famous lines: That last line was a reference to an infamous event in American history where the last engagement between American soldiers and Native American Indians took place. Wounded Knee was a South Dakota reservation village which saw an estimated 150 Indian men, women and children massacred, apparently by mistake. Stephen Vincent Benét suffered a heart attack while in New York City in March 1943. He died, aged 44.
- Poetry
- A Book of Americans (1933)
- Ballads and Poems, 1915-1930 (1931)
- Five Men and Pompey (1915)
- Heavens and Earth (1920)
- James Shore's Daughter (1934)
- John Brown's Body (1928)
- The Burning City (1936)
- Western Star (1943)
- Young Adventure (1918)
- Fiction
- Jean Huguenot (1923)
- Short Stories (1942)
- Spanish Bayonet (1926)
- The Beginning of Wisdom (1921)
- Thirteen O'Clock (1937)
- Young People's Pride (1922)
- Non-Fiction
- The Magic of Poetry and the Poet's Art (1936)
- Plays
- The Headless Horseman (1937)
Stephen Vincent Benét şiirleri
Next, then, the peacock, gilt With all its feathers. Look, what gorgeous dyes Flow in the eyes! And how deep, lustrous greens are splashed and spilt…
I have fallen in love with American names, The sharp names that never get fat, The snakeskin-titles of mining-claims, The plumed war-bonnet of Medicine Hat,…
I am a shell. From me you shall not hear The splendid tramplings of insistent drums, The orbed gold of the viol's voice that comes, Heavy with radiance, languorous and clear.…
Army of Northern Virginia, army of legend, Who were your captains that you could trust them so surely? Who were your battle-flags? Call the shapes from the mist,…
The little letters dance across the page, Flaunt and retire, and trick the tired eyes; Sick of the strain, the glaring light, I rise Yawning and stretching, full of empty rage…
The little letters dance across the page, Flaunt and retire, and trick the tired eyes; Sick of the strain, the glaring light, I rise Yawning and stretching, full of empty rage…
I lie stretched out upon the window-seat And doze, and read a page or two, and doze, And feel the air like water on me close, Great waves of sunny air that lip and beat…
Tobacco smoke drifts up to the dim ceiling From half a dozen pipes and cigarettes, Curling in endless shapes, in blue rings wheeling, As formless as our talk. Phil, drawling, bets…
(For D. M. C.) The little man with the vague beard and guise Pulled at the wicket. "Come inside!" he said,…
To W. R. B. And so, to you, who always were Perseus, D'Artagnan, Lancelot…
My mind’s a map. A mad sea-captain drew it Under a flowing moon until he knew it; Winds with brass trumpets, puffy-cheeked as jugs, And states bright-patterned like Arabian rugs.…
Soup should be heralded with a mellow horn, Blowing clear notes of gold against the stars; Strange entrees with a jangle of glass bars Fantastically alive with subtle scorn;…
(For G. H.) Say, does that stupid earth Where they have laid her,…
Here, where men's eyes were empty and as bright As the blank windows set in glaring brick, When the wind strengthens from the sea -- and night Drops like a fog and makes the breath…
15 / 49 gösteriliyor