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The Ride of Yeldis and Other Poems

Om The Ride of Yeldis and Other Poems

The Ride of Yeldis & Other Poems by Francis Vielé-Griffin (AD 1864-1937) was originally published in 1893 in France (under the title of Le chevauchée d¿Yeldis et autres poèmes). This is the first English-language edition of the work, by the pre-eminent French Symbolist poet, whose dreamy style recollects Rimbaud, and also, strangely, Wallace Stevens. Griffin was born in the U.S., but emigrated with his mother to France at the age of seven or eight, not long after the Civil War ended. The poetry speaks for itself: The turrets that covered Her with their shadow Rose like organ pipes against the sky, Those evenings in June, with countless voices; And, really, all the music That vibrated on the terraces rich in honey, Throughout that slow, sun-drenched June, Was like one long canticle, Of many voices, filled with wonder... * * * In an odor of tossed hay, In a murmur of the rustic ford, Through the diaphanous shade, Come: oblique shadow, The hay smells of love, The water¿s song is tender, silent, grave Like a distant canticle - The year has made its round.

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  • Språk:
  • Engelsk
  • ISBN:
  • 9781955392396
  • Bindende:
  • Paperback
  • Sider:
  • 100
  • Utgitt:
  • 25. juni 2023
  • Dimensjoner:
  • 127x6x203 mm.
  • Vekt:
  • 118 g.
  • BLACK NOVEMBER
Leveringstid: 2-4 uker
Forventet levering: 15. desember 2024

Beskrivelse av The Ride of Yeldis and Other Poems

The Ride of Yeldis & Other Poems by Francis Vielé-Griffin (AD 1864-1937) was originally published in 1893 in France (under the title of Le chevauchée d¿Yeldis et autres poèmes). This is the first English-language edition of the work, by the pre-eminent French Symbolist poet, whose dreamy style recollects Rimbaud, and also, strangely, Wallace Stevens. Griffin was born in the U.S., but emigrated with his mother to France at the age of seven or eight, not long after the Civil War ended.
The poetry speaks for itself:
The turrets that covered Her with their shadow
Rose like organ pipes against the sky,
Those evenings in June, with countless voices;
And, really, all the music
That vibrated on the terraces rich in honey,
Throughout that slow, sun-drenched June,
Was like one long canticle,
Of many voices, filled with wonder...
* * *
In an odor of tossed hay,
In a murmur of the rustic ford,
Through the diaphanous shade,
Come: oblique shadow,
The hay smells of love,
The water¿s song is tender, silent, grave
Like a distant canticle
- The year has made its round.

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