Edmund Clarence Stedman
Edmund Clarence Stedman
Edmund Clarence Stedmanwas an American poet, critic, essayist, banker, and scientist...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth8 October 1833
CountryUnited States of America
light gold hoboken
No, he was no such charlatan-- Count de Hoboken Flash-in-the-Pan-- Full of gasconade and bravado, But a regular, rich Don Rataplane, Santa Claus de la Muscavado, Senor Grandissimo Bastinado! His was the rental of half Havana And all Matanzas; and Santa Ana, Rich as he was, could hardly hold A candle to light the mines of gold Our Cuban owned.
strong future flames
Is there a rarer being, Is there a fairer sphere Where the strong are not unseeing, And the harvests are not sere; Where, ere the seasons dwindle They yield their due return; Where the lamps of knowledge kindle While the flames of youth still burn?
hands looks mould
Look on this cast, and know the hand That bore a nation in its hold; From this mute witness understand What Lincoln was - how large of mould.
blow wind may
Let the winds blow! a fiercer gale Is wild within me! what may quell That sullen tempest? I must sail Whither, O whither, who can tell!
poet accepting critics
A critic must accept what is best in a poet, and thus become his best encourager.
acceptance men firsts
The critic's first labor is the task of distinguishing between men, as history and their works display them, and the ideals which one and another have conspired to urge upon his acceptance.
imagination dies
The imagination never dies.
music soul wave
Music waves eternal wands,-- Enchantress of the souls of mortals!
war moving hero
War! war! war! Heaven aid the right! God move the hero's arm in the fearful fight! God send the women sleep in the long, long night, When the breasts on whose strength they leaned shall heave no more.
summer song fall
The weary August days are long; The locusts sing a plaintive song, The cattle miss their master's call When they see the sunset shadows fall.
sweet spring earth
O fresh-lit dawn! immortal life! O Earth's betrothal, sweet and true!
fighting wings clouds
Above the clouds I lift my wing To hear the bells of Heaven ring; Some of their music, though my fights be wild, To Earth I bring; Then let me soar and sing!
strong drawing gold
But every human path leads on to God; He holds a myriad finer threads than gold, And strong as holy wishes, drawing us With delicate tension upward to Himself.
art excellence chiefs
Poetry is an art, and chief of the fine art; the easiest to dabble in, the hardest in which to reach true excellence.