What do you think?
Rate this book
The Selected Poetry of Robinson Jeffers
In 1938 Random House published The Selected Poetry of Robinson Jeffers , a volume that would remain in print for more than fifty years. For decades it drew enough poets, students, and general readers to keep Jeffers―in spite of the almost total academic neglect that followed his fame in the 1920s and 1930s―a force in American poetry.
Now scholars are at last beginning to recognize that he created a significant alternative to the High Modernism of Pound, Eliot, and Stevens. Similarly, contemporary poets who have returned to the narrative poem acknowledge Jeffers to be a major poet, while those exploring California and the American West as literary regions have found in him a foundational figure. Moreover, Jeffers stands as a crucial precursor to contemporary attempts to rethink our practical, ethical, and spiritual obligations to the natural world and the environment.
These developments underscore the need for a new selected edition that would, like the 1938 volume, include the long narratives that were to Jeffers his major work, along with the more easily anthologized shorter poems. This new selected edition differs from its predecessor in several ways. When Jeffers shaped the 1938 Selected Poetry , he drew from his most productive period (1917-37), but his career was not over yet. In the quarter century that followed, four more volumes of his poetry were published. This new selected edition draws from these later volumes, and it includes a sampling of the poems Jeffers left unpublished, along with several prose pieces in which he reflects on his poetry and poetics.
This edition also adopts the texts of the recently completed The Collected Poetry of Robinson Jeffers (five volumes, Stanford, 1988-2000). When the poems were originally published, copy editors and typesetters adjusted Jeffers's punctuation, often obscuring the rhythm and pacing of what he actually wrote, and at points even obscuring meaning and nuance. This new selected edition, then, is a much broader, more accurate representation of Jeffers's career than the previous Selected Poetry .
Reviews of volumes in
The Collected Poetry of Robinson Jeffers
"A masterful job of contemporary scholarly editing, this book begins an edition intended to clarify a 'Jeffers canon,' establishing for times to come the verse legacy of a poet who looked on all things with the eyes of eternity."― San Francisco Chronicle
"This edition will be standard . . . a tribute and justice to a poet whose independent strength has survived to challenge personal and public canons."― Virginia Quarterly Review
"Jeffers is the last of the major poets of his generation―Frost, Stevens, Williams, Pound, Moore, Eliot―to get his collected poems. Now that the job is at hand, it is done very well. . . . Tim Hunt has been painstaking in his editorial preparation and judicious in his presentation. . . . A great poet is ready for his due."― Philadelphia Inquirer
"Few American poets are treated as well by publishers as Jeffers is by Stanford University Press. . . . These poems represent a distinctive voice in the American canon, and it is good to have them so wonderfully set forth."― Christian Century
Now scholars are at last beginning to recognize that he created a significant alternative to the High Modernism of Pound, Eliot, and Stevens. Similarly, contemporary poets who have returned to the narrative poem acknowledge Jeffers to be a major poet, while those exploring California and the American West as literary regions have found in him a foundational figure. Moreover, Jeffers stands as a crucial precursor to contemporary attempts to rethink our practical, ethical, and spiritual obligations to the natural world and the environment.
These developments underscore the need for a new selected edition that would, like the 1938 volume, include the long narratives that were to Jeffers his major work, along with the more easily anthologized shorter poems. This new selected edition differs from its predecessor in several ways. When Jeffers shaped the 1938 Selected Poetry , he drew from his most productive period (1917-37), but his career was not over yet. In the quarter century that followed, four more volumes of his poetry were published. This new selected edition draws from these later volumes, and it includes a sampling of the poems Jeffers left unpublished, along with several prose pieces in which he reflects on his poetry and poetics.
This edition also adopts the texts of the recently completed The Collected Poetry of Robinson Jeffers (five volumes, Stanford, 1988-2000). When the poems were originally published, copy editors and typesetters adjusted Jeffers's punctuation, often obscuring the rhythm and pacing of what he actually wrote, and at points even obscuring meaning and nuance. This new selected edition, then, is a much broader, more accurate representation of Jeffers's career than the previous Selected Poetry .
Reviews of volumes in
The Collected Poetry of Robinson Jeffers
"A masterful job of contemporary scholarly editing, this book begins an edition intended to clarify a 'Jeffers canon,' establishing for times to come the verse legacy of a poet who looked on all things with the eyes of eternity."― San Francisco Chronicle
"This edition will be standard . . . a tribute and justice to a poet whose independent strength has survived to challenge personal and public canons."― Virginia Quarterly Review
"Jeffers is the last of the major poets of his generation―Frost, Stevens, Williams, Pound, Moore, Eliot―to get his collected poems. Now that the job is at hand, it is done very well. . . . Tim Hunt has been painstaking in his editorial preparation and judicious in his presentation. . . . A great poet is ready for his due."― Philadelphia Inquirer
"Few American poets are treated as well by publishers as Jeffers is by Stanford University Press. . . . These poems represent a distinctive voice in the American canon, and it is good to have them so wonderfully set forth."― Christian Century
776 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1938
69 people are currently reading
1429 people want to read
About the author
Robinson Jeffers
125 books203 followersCollections of American poet John Robinson Jeffers, who sets many of his works in California, include Tamar and Other Poems (1924).
He knew the central coast and wrote mostly in classic narrative and epic form. Nevertheless, people today know also his short verse and consider him an symbol of the environmental movement.
The Harry Ransom humanities research center at the University of Texas at Austin and the libraries at Occidental College, the University of California, and Yale University collect many manuscripts and materials of Jeffers. Survivors published a collection of his letters posthumously as The Selected Letters of Robinson Jeffers, 1887–1962 (1968). Jeffers wrote other books or criticism and poetry: are: Poetry, Gongorism, and a Thousand Years (1949), Themes in My Poems (1956), Robinson Jeffers: Selected Poems (1965), The Alpine Christ and Other Poems (1974), What Odd Expedients" and Other Poems (1981), and Rock and Hawk: A Selection of Shorter Poems by Robinson Jeffers (1987).
Stanford University Press recently released a five-volume collection of the complete works of Robinson Jeffers. In an article titled, "A Black Sheep Joins the Fold", written upon the release of the collection in 2001, Stanford Magazine ably remarked that due to a number of circumstances, "there was never an authoritative, scholarly edition of California’s premier bard" until Stanford published the complete works.
Biographical studies include George Sterling, Robinson Jeffers: The Man and the Artist (1926); Louis Adamic, Robinson Jeffers (1929); Melba Bennett, Robinson Jeffers and the Sea (1936) and The Stone Mason of Tor House (1966); Edith Greenan, Of Una Jeffers (1939); Mabel Dodge Luhan, Una and Robin (1976; written in 1933); Ward Ritchie, Jeffers: Some Recollections of Robinson Jeffers (1977); and James Karman, Robinson Jeffers: Poet of California (1987). Books about Jeffers's career include L. C. Powell, Robinson Jeffers: The Man and His Work (1940; repr. 1973); William Everson, Robinson Jeffers: Fragments of an Older Fury (1968); Arthur B. Coffin, Robinson Jeffers: Poet of Inhumanism (1971); Bill Hotchkiss, Jeffers: The Sivaistic Vision (1975); James Karman, ed., Critical Essays on Robinson Jeffers (1990); Alex Vardamis The Critical Reputation of Robinson Jeffers (1972); and Robert Zaller, ed., Centennial Essays for Robinson Jeffers (1991). The Robinson Jeffers Newsletter, ed. Robert Brophy, is a valuable scholarly resource.
In a rare recording, Jeffers can be heard reading his "The Day Is A Poem" (September 19, 1939) on Poetry Speaks – Hear Great Poets Read Their Work from Tennyson to Plath, Narrated by Charles Osgood (Sourcebooks, Inc., c2001), Disc 1, #41; including text, with Robert Hass on Robinson Jeffers, pp. 88–95. Jeffers was also on the cover of Time – The Weekly Magazine, April 4, 1932 (pictured on p. 90. Poetry Speaks).
"Jeffers Studies", a journal of research on the poetry of Robinson Jeffers and related topics, is published semi-annually by the Robinson Jeffers Association.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 51 reviews
November 27, 2007
drunken charlie, part iv
she lay in the stern of the boat,
and her body sang like a lark:
i curse the war-makers i curse
those that run to the ends of the earth
to exalt a system or save
a foreign power or foreign trade.
my boy was killed by a sea-lion,
and that was cruel but it was clean.
there are men plotting to kill
a million boys for a dead dream.
oh my dear there are some things
that are well worth fighting for.
fight to save a sea-gull's wings:
that would be a sacred war.
she lay in the stern of the boat,
and her body sang like a lark:
i curse the war-makers i curse
those that run to the ends of the earth
to exalt a system or save
a foreign power or foreign trade.
my boy was killed by a sea-lion,
and that was cruel but it was clean.
there are men plotting to kill
a million boys for a dead dream.
oh my dear there are some things
that are well worth fighting for.
fight to save a sea-gull's wings:
that would be a sacred war.
December 19, 2020
I absolutely LOVED this poetry collection! Jeffers seemed to be someone of principle with a love of nature and a distrust of government. A skilled poet, he strove to write poetry that would endure and seemed to disdain contemporary poetry, which was more about the latest fashion than the deeper human questions. Many of his poems give an unflinching acceptance of the darker aspects of human nature, for to deny them is to deny who we truly are. His poetry puts more faith in the natural world, because it endures and always acts without artifice. Highly recommend.
November 9, 2022
Being such a comprehensive collection, the quality and type of content varies wildly. It mostly alternates between the long-form narrative verse and the brief meditative poems in a chronological order.
The brief poems are generally quite interesting and thought-provoking, and definitely have a strong eastern influence--very reminiscent of Taoist and Zen philosophy. Although they do vary and some can be a bit esoteric and almost incoherent. You can really trace Jeffers' mental state as these evolve with time--in earlier times they range from meditations on the beauty of the world around Big Sur to nihilistic and pacificist diatribes that are strongly tied to the World Wars that happened under his watch. Not all of them connect for me, but the ones that do often caused me to get stuck on a page, reading a particular verse or passage over and over again in contemplation. As Jeffers ages, these tend to evolve in a predictable manner. As he gets older his tone shifts to a more nihilistic and misanthropic one, and after Una dies he mostly pines for her loss and contemplates the meaninglessness of life. They almost read like suicide notes at the end, or pleas for death.
The pieces of narrative poetry tell compelling and heartbreaking stories akin to greek tragedies, with the setting transported to the rugged coasts of Central California--a place at the time that was a haven for rugged individualists and ranchers instead of wealthy tourists. Each one tells a story of love and suffering, and plumbs the depths of what humans are capable of when overwhelmed with love and hatred at the same time. While somewhat obtuse at first, they gradually unfold to tell very powerful stories and there is a really interesting mix of classical tragedy and modern settings. None of them have happy endings, but they are all powerful.
The brief poems are generally quite interesting and thought-provoking, and definitely have a strong eastern influence--very reminiscent of Taoist and Zen philosophy. Although they do vary and some can be a bit esoteric and almost incoherent. You can really trace Jeffers' mental state as these evolve with time--in earlier times they range from meditations on the beauty of the world around Big Sur to nihilistic and pacificist diatribes that are strongly tied to the World Wars that happened under his watch. Not all of them connect for me, but the ones that do often caused me to get stuck on a page, reading a particular verse or passage over and over again in contemplation. As Jeffers ages, these tend to evolve in a predictable manner. As he gets older his tone shifts to a more nihilistic and misanthropic one, and after Una dies he mostly pines for her loss and contemplates the meaninglessness of life. They almost read like suicide notes at the end, or pleas for death.
The pieces of narrative poetry tell compelling and heartbreaking stories akin to greek tragedies, with the setting transported to the rugged coasts of Central California--a place at the time that was a haven for rugged individualists and ranchers instead of wealthy tourists. Each one tells a story of love and suffering, and plumbs the depths of what humans are capable of when overwhelmed with love and hatred at the same time. While somewhat obtuse at first, they gradually unfold to tell very powerful stories and there is a really interesting mix of classical tragedy and modern settings. None of them have happy endings, but they are all powerful.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 26, 2018
One of my favorites. I picked this up a month ago when I ran out of books -- I've read it cover to cover once, and worked my way back through much of it again and again. If you 1) love nature, 2) are skeptical of human beings (especially when they congregate in cities, corporations, and [worst of all] Congresses), and 3) really like rocks, trees, waves, and sometimes oblique, sometimes brutal, sometimes gorgeous poetry, I recommend this. I'm planning a pilgrimage to Carmel-by-the-Sea, and then building my own karsty, crusty version of Tor House.
November 8, 2019
For me, Jeffers' poetry pulls at the primal core deep inside of me. This poetry invokes a sense of connection with the world around me in the same way that the fiction of Thomas Hardy and to some degree that of Steinbeck does. As someone who works with natural resources issues each and every day, I appreciate a writer that can restore a proper sense of place and order in the role (and responsibilities) of the human species on Planet Earth. Jeffers' narrative poems are nothing short of amazing. In the right hands, some of them could be turned into terrific movies.
October 15, 2017
I suppose the complete poems would be a bit much for me but I treasure this selected version of fine poetry. Some of my very favorite poems of all time are in this collection
August 18, 2024
I am heaping the bones of the old mother
To build us a hold against the host of the air;
Granite the blood-heat of her youth
Held molten in hot darkness against the heart
Hardened to temper under the feet
Of the ocean cavalry that are maned with snow
And march from the remotest west.
This is the primitive rock, here in the wet
Quarry under the shadow of waves
Whose hollows mouthed the dawn; little house each stone
Baptized from the abysmal font
The sea and the secret earth gave bonds to affirm you.
April 13, 2019
My reaction to Robinson Jeffers' poetry is the working definition of ambivalence. He's deeply grounded in the West, where he moved in his 20s after growing up in Pittsburgh. I absolutely love the moments when he's savoring the contrast of suddenness (the recurring hawk imagery) and solidity (the mountains). And I'm in sympathy with the political vision that distances him from pretty much every ideology (without surrendering to a stupid relativism that sees all evils as equivalent). "Shine, Perishing Republic" sounds core themes that remain depressingly apt nearly a century after he wrote it:
"While this America settles in the mould of its vulgarity, heavily thickening to empire,
And protest, only a bubble in the molten mass, pops and sights out, and the mass hardens....."
"......meteors are not needed less than mountains: shine, perishing Republic.
Buf for my children I would have them eep their distance from the thickening center: corruption
Never has been compulsory, when the cities lie at the monster's feet there are left the mountains."
Amen.
The problem is the Jeffers veers fairly frequently into a sort of didacticism that reads prose more than poetry to me. The best poems, like "Carmel Point," are keepers, but he's better for me in anthology form than at length.
"While this America settles in the mould of its vulgarity, heavily thickening to empire,
And protest, only a bubble in the molten mass, pops and sights out, and the mass hardens....."
"......meteors are not needed less than mountains: shine, perishing Republic.
Buf for my children I would have them eep their distance from the thickening center: corruption
Never has been compulsory, when the cities lie at the monster's feet there are left the mountains."
Amen.
The problem is the Jeffers veers fairly frequently into a sort of didacticism that reads prose more than poetry to me. The best poems, like "Carmel Point," are keepers, but he's better for me in anthology form than at length.
November 3, 2012
Certainly not my cup of tea and most likely another reason I could give for the general mass of humanity taught at all ages through their schooling experience to not like poetry either. I am sure there are some redeeming qualities of Jeffers' poetry to the historians among us, but that is something I am simply not interested in. Having cultural, civic, and worldly events chronicled through narrative poetry is a media that quickly puts me to sleep and I find no pleasantries in it. My body almost dies, actually. I am grateful, however, for the followers and fans Robinson Jeffers has had and still has and that he somehow offers substance and delight to these precious few. But I will not be one included as an honorary member of that group and neither one of his loyal acolytes.
November 4, 2014
I wanted so much to be the kind of person who likes Robinson Jeffers and his poetry, but I am just not. I've tried for years to read this book to no avail. He has a harsher eye, imagine if Carl Sandburg carried a grudge and wanted to keep things real, then you would have Jeffers. And I just don't like where his words take me.
May 31, 2017
I was a bit disappointed. I expected his body of work to resemble my favorite poem of his, "Apology For Bad Dreams". I was not anticipating long slogs through what could have been short stories, but which lacked the fire and sting of his shorter pieces. I didn't care for any of the long works, and there are many of them.
I have a morning ritual where I drink my coffee and tweet passages of poetry. The phrases that bring an inhalation of awe, the descriptions that ring clearly, and the thoughts which open up a new perspective. This volume did not have as many of those drops of wonder as I had hoped.
I own the book, so I can always go back through someday and try to chew those longer pieces until they can be swallowed more easily.
I have a morning ritual where I drink my coffee and tweet passages of poetry. The phrases that bring an inhalation of awe, the descriptions that ring clearly, and the thoughts which open up a new perspective. This volume did not have as many of those drops of wonder as I had hoped.
I own the book, so I can always go back through someday and try to chew those longer pieces until they can be swallowed more easily.
March 24, 2025
The evocative landscape poetry is amazing - it transports the reader right to the central California coast of yesteryear. The human elements, though, are bleak and horrifying.
As for the editorial arrangement, it would have been very much appreciated to have the Prose pieces inline with the poems and/or periods they were intended to preface, as they provide valuable insights and context. Imagine determinedly bushwhacking through 600-plus pages of thickets of bizarre and melancholic bleak poetry only to finally find at the end a collection of sign-posts, torn out and piled near the very end of the trail instead of set in the useful places originally intended.
I can't believe I read this without needing it for a class or assignment of any kind.
As for the editorial arrangement, it would have been very much appreciated to have the Prose pieces inline with the poems and/or periods they were intended to preface, as they provide valuable insights and context. Imagine determinedly bushwhacking through 600-plus pages of thickets of bizarre and melancholic bleak poetry only to finally find at the end a collection of sign-posts, torn out and piled near the very end of the trail instead of set in the useful places originally intended.
I can't believe I read this without needing it for a class or assignment of any kind.
September 13, 2025
I found a few I liked and I enjoyed the book, but Jeffers is very interested in families with a lot of drama and sexual infidelities and murder, which is not how most people in my experience are, so a lot of it seemed rather melodramatic, although in a grounded way since he’s very good and landscape and California coastlines. The sonnets worked better for me than the long pieces.
March 25, 2010
everything must be reconsidered after reading these poems. i also really liked the small selections of his prose, which were mostly introductions to his works. "the loving shepherdess" is the only one of the longer works which i liked, although all of the longer poems have parts of sheer brilliance. the beginning of "hungerfield" was deeply moving, as was the ending, but the middle was "typical" dense, obscure Jeffers; not unenjoyable, but not ecstatic.
one way to describe him is as "a nature poet" but this implies a sense of nature worship which i think is somewhat absent in him. several poems go on at length about the "inhuman beauty of things," which is not necessarily "nature." the "beauty of things" is also found in what is not, strictly speaking, "natural," according to Jeffers and i would have to agree; cities, for example, have elements of the beautiful not found in nature or what is considered "natural."
one profound remark, from one of the prose selections: "[the hypothetical great poet:] would understand that Rimbaud was a young man of startling genius but not to be imitated; and that The Waste Land, though one of the finest poems of this century and surely the most influential, marks the close of a literary dynasty, not the beginning." like i said, everything must be reconsidered in light of Robinson Jeffers; at least when it comes to my own writing. i have copied his prose into PDF; if you're interested leave a comment and we will work something out.
here is a list of the poems i liked from this collection:
from Tamar
suicide's stone
natural music
shine, perishing republic
continent's end
from Roan Stallion
boats in a fog
joy
from The Women at Point Sur
apology for bad dreams
credo
from Cawdor
The Broken Balance (part ii and iii only)
from Solstice
distant rainfall
rock and hawk
shine republic
sign-post
gray weather
from Such Counsels You Gave To Me
rearmament
the purse seine
memoir
the answer
the beaks of eagles
contemplation of the sword*
october week-end
theory of truth (quoted in Straw Dogs)
from Dear Judas
inscription for a grave stone
from Thurso's Landing
new mexican mountain
fire on the hills
from Give Your Heart To The Hawks
triad
still the mind smiles
from Be Angry At The Sun
faith
the house dog's grave (my aunt dawn would like this poem)
the bloody sire
drunken charlie(part iv only)
from The Double Axe
cassandra
historical choice
invasion
original sin
from Hungerfield
the beauty of things
From Last Poems
let them alone
"the mathematicians and physics men"
It nearly cancels my fear of death"
from Unpublished Poems
may 5, 1915 to U.J.
doors to peace
tragedy has its obligations
here are some choice quotations:
from give your heart to the hawks
He was like this
mountain coast,
All beautiful, with chances of brutal violence; precipitous, dark natured,
beautiful; without humor, without ever
A glimmer of gayety; blind gray headland and arid mountain, and trailing
from his shoulders the infinite ocean.
So love, that hunts always outside the human for his choice of metaphors,
Pictured her man on her mind.
We have no outlet for our bad feelings.
There was a war but I was too young: they used to have little wars all the
time and that saved them,
In our time we have to keep it locked up inside and are full of spite: and
misery: or blindly in a flash:
"Oh," he said stilly; "rage
Like a beast and kill the one you love best. Because our blood grows fierce
in the dark and there's no course for it.
I dream of killing all the mouths on the coast, I dream and dream."
he is only an / echo of our own troubled / And loving thoughts the fiery delight more pure of guilt
From Cawdor
All that I loved is here dying ...
We're given a dollar of life to gamble against a dollar's / worth of desire / And if we win we have both but losers lose nothing.
a bright fear, not of death but of dying mocked, / Overreached and outraged as a fool dies
the unspent chemistry of life ...
the brittle iniquities of pleasure ...
from New Mexican Mountain
people from cities, anxious to be human again. Poor show how they suck
you empty! The Indians are emptied,
And certainly there was never religion enough, nor beauty nor poetry here
... to fill Americans.
from Contemplation of the Sword
The sword: that is:
I have two sons whom I love. They are twins, they were born in nineteen sixteen, which seemed to us a dark year
Of a great war, and they are now of the age
That war prefers. The first-born is like his mother, he is so beautiful
That persons I hardly know have stopped me on the street to speak of the
grave beauty of the boy's face.
The second-born has strength for his beauty; when he strips for swimming
the hero shoulders and wrestler loins
Make him seem clothed. The sword: that is: loathsome disfigurements,
blindness, mutilation, locked lips of boys
Too proud to scream.
Reason will not decide at last: the sword will decide.
one way to describe him is as "a nature poet" but this implies a sense of nature worship which i think is somewhat absent in him. several poems go on at length about the "inhuman beauty of things," which is not necessarily "nature." the "beauty of things" is also found in what is not, strictly speaking, "natural," according to Jeffers and i would have to agree; cities, for example, have elements of the beautiful not found in nature or what is considered "natural."
one profound remark, from one of the prose selections: "[the hypothetical great poet:] would understand that Rimbaud was a young man of startling genius but not to be imitated; and that The Waste Land, though one of the finest poems of this century and surely the most influential, marks the close of a literary dynasty, not the beginning." like i said, everything must be reconsidered in light of Robinson Jeffers; at least when it comes to my own writing. i have copied his prose into PDF; if you're interested leave a comment and we will work something out.
here is a list of the poems i liked from this collection:
from Tamar
suicide's stone
natural music
shine, perishing republic
continent's end
from Roan Stallion
boats in a fog
joy
from The Women at Point Sur
apology for bad dreams
credo
from Cawdor
The Broken Balance (part ii and iii only)
from Solstice
distant rainfall
rock and hawk
shine republic
sign-post
gray weather
from Such Counsels You Gave To Me
rearmament
the purse seine
memoir
the answer
the beaks of eagles
contemplation of the sword*
october week-end
theory of truth (quoted in Straw Dogs)
from Dear Judas
inscription for a grave stone
from Thurso's Landing
new mexican mountain
fire on the hills
from Give Your Heart To The Hawks
triad
still the mind smiles
from Be Angry At The Sun
faith
the house dog's grave (my aunt dawn would like this poem)
the bloody sire
drunken charlie(part iv only)
from The Double Axe
cassandra
historical choice
invasion
original sin
from Hungerfield
the beauty of things
From Last Poems
let them alone
"the mathematicians and physics men"
It nearly cancels my fear of death"
from Unpublished Poems
may 5, 1915 to U.J.
doors to peace
tragedy has its obligations
here are some choice quotations:
from give your heart to the hawks
He was like this
mountain coast,
All beautiful, with chances of brutal violence; precipitous, dark natured,
beautiful; without humor, without ever
A glimmer of gayety; blind gray headland and arid mountain, and trailing
from his shoulders the infinite ocean.
So love, that hunts always outside the human for his choice of metaphors,
Pictured her man on her mind.
We have no outlet for our bad feelings.
There was a war but I was too young: they used to have little wars all the
time and that saved them,
In our time we have to keep it locked up inside and are full of spite: and
misery: or blindly in a flash:
"Oh," he said stilly; "rage
Like a beast and kill the one you love best. Because our blood grows fierce
in the dark and there's no course for it.
I dream of killing all the mouths on the coast, I dream and dream."
he is only an / echo of our own troubled / And loving thoughts the fiery delight more pure of guilt
From Cawdor
All that I loved is here dying ...
We're given a dollar of life to gamble against a dollar's / worth of desire / And if we win we have both but losers lose nothing.
a bright fear, not of death but of dying mocked, / Overreached and outraged as a fool dies
the unspent chemistry of life ...
the brittle iniquities of pleasure ...
from New Mexican Mountain
people from cities, anxious to be human again. Poor show how they suck
you empty! The Indians are emptied,
And certainly there was never religion enough, nor beauty nor poetry here
... to fill Americans.
from Contemplation of the Sword
The sword: that is:
I have two sons whom I love. They are twins, they were born in nineteen sixteen, which seemed to us a dark year
Of a great war, and they are now of the age
That war prefers. The first-born is like his mother, he is so beautiful
That persons I hardly know have stopped me on the street to speak of the
grave beauty of the boy's face.
The second-born has strength for his beauty; when he strips for swimming
the hero shoulders and wrestler loins
Make him seem clothed. The sword: that is: loathsome disfigurements,
blindness, mutilation, locked lips of boys
Too proud to scream.
Reason will not decide at last: the sword will decide.
February 4, 2018
Jeffers is a strange poet. I'm not sure whether to take it all seriously. Perhaps it is my Englishness, but I felt a bubbling need to chuckle at times: the blood, the power, the metaphors spilling guts all over the place.
May 19, 2023
I love Jeffers' poetry, I absolutely do not like his prose poetry. But that's not a mark against him personally. If I want prose I'll read prose. Jeffers is my favorite poet for sure, but the longer poems in this collection kept it from being perfect.
May 4, 2020
I can really identify with Jeffers. But even for me he's a bit of a misanthrope.
August 13, 2020
One of my favorite poets.
June 4, 2021
Many of Jeffers’ poems read more like short stories, which seems like a more appropriate genre for much of his writing. That said, these poems spoke to me:
“Hurt Hawks”
“Memoir”
“The Answer”
“The Deer Lay Down Their Bones”
“Let Them Alone”
“The mathematicians and the physics men”
“The Epic Stars”
“Goethe, they say, was a great poet”
“Oysters”
“It nearly cancels my fear is death”
“Hurt Hawks”
“Memoir”
“The Answer”
“The Deer Lay Down Their Bones”
“Let Them Alone”
“The mathematicians and the physics men”
“The Epic Stars”
“Goethe, they say, was a great poet”
“Oysters”
“It nearly cancels my fear is death”
December 19, 2021
Borrowed this from the library. Wonderful collection, but over 700 pages. I read many, including
"Shine, Perishing Republic," first published in 1925. Alludes to American corruption.
"Shine, Perishing Republic," first published in 1925. Alludes to American corruption.
July 8, 2022
A really unique American poet. Not sure if this is the same collection I read. In The Two Headed Axe Jeffers brings out a useful perspective on humanity and our place in the world.
Want to read
February 28, 2025Watership down
May 17, 2025
Best poet ever
August 31, 2025
It's difficult to get hold on Jeffer's work unless your willing to spend a little money. This was well worth it. 700+ pages of amazing and powerful poetry.
November 2, 2018
This here stack of verse has earned its spot upon my bedside for, what could be, the rest of mortal existence. 10/10
November 25, 2020
Robinson Jeffers was born on January 10, 1887. In this, the definitive selection of Jeffers poetry, there is a broad selection that includes his best efforts. Ranging from Roan Stallion and Cawdor from the twenties to his last poems in the late fifties, the collection demonstrates that he belongs in the pantheon with the best poets of the ages. "Rock and Hawk" is both one of his greatest poems and one of my favorites; but I also relish the great thoughts found in some of the smallest poems:
"I am neither mountain nor bird
Nor star: and I seek joy."
Jeffers, who lived on and often wrote about the California coast, is regarded by many as “the father of environmental poetry.” He attracted controversy for his pacifism and his philosophy of “Inhumanism,” which advocated "a shifting of emphasis and significance from man to notman; the rejection of human solipsism and recognition of the trans-human magnificence." But I like to focus on the beauty of his words; for example "Tor House" which is today a popular stop for both literary travelers and environmentalists.
If you should look for this place after a handful of lifetimes:
Perhaps of my planted forest a few
May stand yet, dark-leaved Australians or the coast cypress, haggard
With storm-drift; but fire and the axe are devils.
Look for foundations of sea-worn granite, my fingers had the art
To make stone love stone, you will find some remnant….
"I am neither mountain nor bird
Nor star: and I seek joy."
Jeffers, who lived on and often wrote about the California coast, is regarded by many as “the father of environmental poetry.” He attracted controversy for his pacifism and his philosophy of “Inhumanism,” which advocated "a shifting of emphasis and significance from man to notman; the rejection of human solipsism and recognition of the trans-human magnificence." But I like to focus on the beauty of his words; for example "Tor House" which is today a popular stop for both literary travelers and environmentalists.
If you should look for this place after a handful of lifetimes:
Perhaps of my planted forest a few
May stand yet, dark-leaved Australians or the coast cypress, haggard
With storm-drift; but fire and the axe are devils.
Look for foundations of sea-worn granite, my fingers had the art
To make stone love stone, you will find some remnant….
May 28, 2008
Shine, Republic:
The quality of these trees, green height; of the sky, shining; of water, a clear flow; of the rock, hardness.
And reticence: each is noble in its quality. The love of freedom has been the quality of Western man.
There is a stubborn torch that flames from Marathon to Concord, its dangerous beauty binding three ages.
Into one time; the waves of barbarism and civilization have eclipsed but have never quenched it.
For the Greeks the love of beauty, for Rome of ruling; for the present age the passionate love of discovery;
But in one noble passion we are one; and Washington, Luther, Tacitus, Aeschylus, one kind of man.
And you, America, that passion made you. You were not born to prosperity, you were born to love freedom.
You did not say "en masse," you said "independence." But we cannot have all the luxuries and freedom also.
Freedom is poor and laborious; that torch is not safe but hungry, and often requires blood for its fuel.
You will tame it against it burn too clearly, you will hood it like a kept hawk, you will perch it on the wrist of Caesar.
But keep the tradition, conserve the forms, the observances, keep the spot sore. Be great, carve deep your heel-harks.
The states of the next age will no doubt remember you, and edge their love of freedom with contempt of luxury.
'Nuff said!
The quality of these trees, green height; of the sky, shining; of water, a clear flow; of the rock, hardness.
And reticence: each is noble in its quality. The love of freedom has been the quality of Western man.
There is a stubborn torch that flames from Marathon to Concord, its dangerous beauty binding three ages.
Into one time; the waves of barbarism and civilization have eclipsed but have never quenched it.
For the Greeks the love of beauty, for Rome of ruling; for the present age the passionate love of discovery;
But in one noble passion we are one; and Washington, Luther, Tacitus, Aeschylus, one kind of man.
And you, America, that passion made you. You were not born to prosperity, you were born to love freedom.
You did not say "en masse," you said "independence." But we cannot have all the luxuries and freedom also.
Freedom is poor and laborious; that torch is not safe but hungry, and often requires blood for its fuel.
You will tame it against it burn too clearly, you will hood it like a kept hawk, you will perch it on the wrist of Caesar.
But keep the tradition, conserve the forms, the observances, keep the spot sore. Be great, carve deep your heel-harks.
The states of the next age will no doubt remember you, and edge their love of freedom with contempt of luxury.
'Nuff said!
July 8, 2016
Robinson Jeffers is an interesting poet. When I was in high school, he was my introduction to the word "misanthrope." Nevertheless I have always like him, whenever I see his poems. I saw this book (almost 700 pages), and borrowed it from the library. I have read about 300 pages, selected poems from Jeffers first five books (Tamar, Roan Stallion, The Women at Point Sur, Cawdor).
Jeffers lived in the Big Sur area, and has lots of nature poems (usually with storms and eagles and waves). He also likes to write long, tragic epic poems. Cawdor (the poem) is about an old widower, who marries a younger woman. As a result of this marriage, the younger woman is allowed to tend to her blind father at Cawdor's house. The woman accuses Cawdor's son of making love to her, so Cawdor kills him, and great tragedy ensues. Almost too much. Too much is the poem Tamar. Jeffers later wrote a poem apologizing for that one. It's OMG.
In another half a year I'll take another crack at this. Time to read another poet.
Jeffers lived in the Big Sur area, and has lots of nature poems (usually with storms and eagles and waves). He also likes to write long, tragic epic poems. Cawdor (the poem) is about an old widower, who marries a younger woman. As a result of this marriage, the younger woman is allowed to tend to her blind father at Cawdor's house. The woman accuses Cawdor's son of making love to her, so Cawdor kills him, and great tragedy ensues. Almost too much. Too much is the poem Tamar. Jeffers later wrote a poem apologizing for that one. It's OMG.
In another half a year I'll take another crack at this. Time to read another poet.
Want to read
January 31, 2017Rearmament
These grand and fatal movements toward death: the grandeur of the mass
Makes pity a fool, the tearing pity
For the atoms of the mass, the persons, the victims, makes it seem monstrous
To admire the tragic beauty they build.
It is beautiful as a river flowing or a slowly gathering
Glacier on a high mountain rock-face,
Bound to plow down a forest, or as frost in November,
The gold and flaming death-dance for leaves,
Or a girl in the night of her spent maidenhood, bleeding and kissing.
I would burn my right hand in a slow fire
To change the future … I should do foolishly. The beauty of modern
Man is not in the persons but in the
Disastrous rhythm, the heavy and mobile masses, the dance of the
Dream-led masses down the dark mountain.
Robinson Jeffers, 1935
These grand and fatal movements toward death: the grandeur of the mass
Makes pity a fool, the tearing pity
For the atoms of the mass, the persons, the victims, makes it seem monstrous
To admire the tragic beauty they build.
It is beautiful as a river flowing or a slowly gathering
Glacier on a high mountain rock-face,
Bound to plow down a forest, or as frost in November,
The gold and flaming death-dance for leaves,
Or a girl in the night of her spent maidenhood, bleeding and kissing.
I would burn my right hand in a slow fire
To change the future … I should do foolishly. The beauty of modern
Man is not in the persons but in the
Disastrous rhythm, the heavy and mobile masses, the dance of the
Dream-led masses down the dark mountain.
Robinson Jeffers, 1935
Displaying 1 - 30 of 51 reviews