Apr 20
W.H. Auden, Stephen Spender, and Christopher Isherwood on vacation at the North Sea, 1931.
Christopher Isherwood with W. H. Auden and Stephen Spender on Fire Island, September 1947. (Photo by William Caskey)
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W.H. Auden, Stephen Spender, and Christopher Isherwood on vacation at the North Sea, 1931.
Christopher Isherwood with W. H. Auden and Stephen Spender on Fire Island, September 1947. (Photo by William Caskey)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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She was at once so resolute and so dreamy, so sensual and so intelligent. She also was intensely private. What she knew best was how it felt to be alone, unique, isolated. She was lacking in the sense of a solid communal life; what bound people together escaped her. What separated them was an object of wonder, delight and despair. She seemed as detached from herself as from everyone else.
Stephen Spender, describing Virginia Woolf
Within the bells of foxgloves and cathedrals,
Each life must feed upon the deaths of others,
The shamelessly entreating prayer
Of every house will be that it is spared
Calamity that strikes its neighbour.
- Stephen Spender
T. S. Eliot, September 26, 1888 – January 4, 1965.
Mark Gerson, The Faber Poets, 1960: Louis MacNeice, Ted Hughes, T. S. Eliot, W. H. Auden, and Stephen Spender.
In one section of the canal path you walk with trees on both sides and with sunlight pouring between and through the leaves it made me think of the beginning of a favorite poem by Stephen Spender:
“I think continually of those who were truly great, / Who from the womb remembered the soul’s history / Through corridors of light where the hours are suns / Endless and singing.”
I felt like I was walking through a corridor of light, in time away from the world. I wish you could walk there.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
The Faber poets (Louis MacNeice; Ted Hughes; TS Eliot; WH Auden; Stephen Spender) at a party thrown by the publishers on 23 June 1960.
favourite poems of october
alfred starr a dark dreambox of another kind: the poems of alfred starr: "didn't you ever search for another star?
stephen spender new collected poems: "auden's funeral"
marianne boruch keats is coughing
noa micaela fields zoeglossia: poem of the week, may 17, 2021: "echolalia"
kevin young diptych
richard siken real estate
crisosto apache kúghą/home
mikko harvey for m
nathan hoks nests in air: "the barbed wire nest"
john a. holmes noon waking
crisosto apache 37 common characterisi(x)s of a displaced indian with a learning disability
oliver de la paz requiem for the orchard: "at the time of my birth"
zhang xun jiangnan song (tr. bijaan noormohamed)
paul violi fracas: "extenuating circumstances"
tianru wang after "yellow crane tower"
lloyd schwartz cairo traffic: "nostalgia (the lake at night)"
kamiko han the narrow road to the interior: "the orient"
rigoberto gonzalez unpeopled eden: "unpeopled eden"
adelaide crapsey verse: "to the dead in the graveyard underneath my window"
chester kallman night music
alan shapiro covenant: "covenant"
tom clark light and shade: new and selected poems: "radio"
tc tolbert my melissa,
charlie smith in praise of regret
carolyn kizer cool, calm, and collected: poems 1960-2000: "fanny"
julie sheehan orient point: "hate poem"
arthur sze the redshifting web: poems 1970-1998: "streamers"
joumana altallal everything here...in the voice of tara fares
abid b al-abras last simile
w.s. merwin to lingering regrets
george scarbrough music
shout me a coffee
— Stephen Spender on Virginia Woolf
“She was at once so resolute and so dreamy, so sensual and so intelligent. She also was intensely private. What she knew best was how it felt to be alone, unique, isolated. She was lacking in the sense of a solid communal life; What bound people together escaped her. What separated them was an object of wonder, delight and despair. She seemed as detached from herself as from everyone else.”
