Hart Crane

Hart Crane

in Garrettsville, Ohio, The United States
July 21, 1899

April 27, 1932


T. S. Eliot, William Blake, Walt Whitman, Gerald Manley Hopkins, Arthu ...more

Hart Crane was born in Garrettsville, Ohio. His father, Clarence, was a successful Ohio businessman who had made his fortune in the candy business with chocolate bars. He originally held the patent for the Life Saver, but sold his interest to another businessman just before the candy became popular. Crane’s mother and father were constantly fighting, and early in April, 1917, they divorced. It was shortly thereafter that Hart dropped out of high school and headed to New York City. Between 1917 and 1924 he moved back and forth between New York and Cleveland, working as an advertising copywriter and a worker in his father’s factory. From Crane's letters, it appears that New York was where he felt most at home, and much of his poetry is set th ...more

Average rating: 4.15 · 3,724 ratings · 140 reviews · 25 distinct works · Similar authors
The Complete Poems

4.13 avg rating — 2,414 ratings — published 1933 — 6 editions
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The Bridge

4.16 avg rating — 744 ratings — published 1930 — 8 editions
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White Buildings: Poems

4.28 avg rating — 209 ratings — published 1972 — 5 editions
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Complete Poems and Selected...

4.32 avg rating — 168 ratings
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The Collected Poems of Hart...

4.32 avg rating — 34 ratings — published 1933 — 3 editions
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Hart Crane

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The Collected Poems

4.57 avg rating — 14 ratings2 editions
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The Complete Poems and Sele...

4.07 avg rating — 28 ratings5 editions
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A Pagan Anthology (1918)

4.50 avg rating — 2 ratings — published 2014
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Key West: An Island Sheaf

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More books by Hart Crane…
“One must be drenched in words, literally soaked in them, to have the right ones form themselves into the proper pattern at the right moment.”
Hart Crane

“I wanted you, nameless Woman of the South,
No wraith, but utterly—as still more alone
The Southern Cross takes night
And lifts her girdles from her, one by one—
High, cool,
wide from the slowly smoldering fire
Of lower heavens,—
vaporous scars!

Eve! Magdalene!
or Mary, you?

Whatever call—falls vainly on the wave.
O simian Venus, homeless Eve,
Unwedded, stumbling gardenless to grieve
Windswept guitars on lonely decks forever;
Finally to answer all within one grave!

And this long wake of phosphor,
Furrow of all our travel—trailed derision!
Eyes crumble at its kiss. Its long-drawn spell
Incites a yell. Slid on that backward vision
The mind is churned to spittle, whispering hell.

I wanted you . . . The embers of the Cross
Climbed by aslant and huddling aromatically.
It is blood to remember; it is fire
To stammer back . . . It is
God—your namelessness. And the wash—

All night the water combed you with black
Insolence. You crept out simmering, accomplished.
Water rattled that stinging coil, your
Rehearsed hair—docile, alas, from many arms.
Yes, Eve—wraith of my unloved seed!

The Cross, a phantom, buckled—dropped below the dawn.
Light drowned the lithic trillions of your spawn.”
Hart Crane, The Bridge

“نتكيّف خاضعين
مكتفين بتعزيّات جزافية
كتلك التى تضعها الريح
فى جيوب عميقة وواسعة
لأنه لا يزال فى وسعنا أن نحب العالم،
نحن الذين نجد قطا صغيرا على العتبة ونعرف
كيف نحميه من قساوة الشارع
فى فجوة دافئة مغطاة بالريش.
سوف نسير جانبيا،
وحتى البسمة المتكلفة الأخيرة
نتحاشى حكم ذلك الإبهام المحتوم
الذى يدير نحونا ببطء سبّابته المجعدة
مواجهين النظرة الشذراء الفاترة ببراءة
وبالكثير من الدهشة!
ومع ذلك، فتلك السقطات البارعة ليست أكاذيب
أكثر مما هى استدارات أى خيزرانة مطواع،
وليس مأتمنا، بصورةٍ ما، مشروعاً.
فى وسعنا التملص منكم، ومن كل شىء آخر،
لكن ليس من القلب:
ما ذنبنا إذا بقى القلب حيّا؟
تفرض اللعبة ابتسامات متكلفة،
لكننا رأينا القمر
يصنع فى المعابر المقفرة كأس ضحك مقدسة
من منفضة فارغة
وعبر أصوات المرح والبحث جميعا
سمعنا مواء قطٍ فى البرية”
Hart Crane, White Buildings: Poems

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