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Delmore Schwartz    1938 “May memory restore again and again The smallest color of the smallest day: Time is the school in which we learn, Time is the fire in which we burn.”  Delmore Schwartz  "The Repetitive Heart"

Delmore Schwartz 1938 “May memory restore again and again The smallest color of the smallest day: Time is the school in which we learn, Time is the fire in which we burn.” Delmore Schwartz "The Repetitive Heart"

Journals and Notes of Delmore Schwartz, edited by Elizabeth Pollet

Journals and Notes of Delmore Schwartz, edited by Elizabeth Pollet

Delmore Schwartz circa 1958.

Delmore Schwartz circa W. Auden said of this photograph, “Nobody should look that unhappy.

Poet Delmore Schwartz (1913-1966), New York City. Uncredited and undated photograph.

Poet Delmore Schwartz, New York City Uncredited and Undated Photograph Calmly we walk through this April’s day, Metropolitan poetry here and there, In the park sit pauper and rentier, The screaming.

Edna St. Vincent Millay #poetry

Portraits of Modern American Poets

John Keats

Portrait of John Keats (October 1795 - February by William Hilton National Portrait Gallery, London Died 23 February 1821 (aged Rome, - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Delmore Schwartz.

Delmore Schwartz.

"First Fig  My candle burns at both ends;  It will not last the night;  But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends -  It gives a lovely light!"     -Edna St. Vincent Millay

Edna St Vincent Millay, (February 1892 – October was an American lyrical poet, playwright and feminist. She received the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in the third woman to win the award for poetry, and was also known for her activism.

Delmore Schwartz.jpg

Poet Delmore Schwartz, New York City Uncredited and Undated Photograph “the withness of the body” – Whitehead The heavy bear who goes with me, A manifold honey to smear his face, Clumsy and lumbering.

Poet Kenneth Koch

Two Elegies for Delmore Schwartz

A revolutionary poem will not tell you who or when to kill, what and when to burn, or even how to theorize. It reminds you... where and when and how you are living and might live, it is a wick of desire. Adrienne Rich

A revolutionary poem will not tell you who or when to kill, what and when to burn, or even how to theorize. It reminds you. where and when and how you are living and might live, it is a wick of desire.

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