Poems by John Crowe Ransom
Dumb-Bells
... And washed him glittering white and clean ...
Geometry
... For oaks are spindling too, and bent, ...
Darkness
... And feeling your way when paths are crossed: ...
Overtures
... "Perhaps she crept to you, and cried, ...
The School
... The Lord preserves his saints for Christian uses ...
Wrestling
... They sprang, they gripped, they strained and rocked and twisted, ...
Friendship
... How will you stand before the lord of harvests ...
Morning
... With filthy food, which they must cast away ...
April Treason
... Still she touched his fingers cold as ice ...
Vaunting Oak
... She looked and murmured, Established there, forever! ...
