Who is Anthony Evan Hecht
Anthony Evan Hecht (January 16, 1923 – October 20, 2004) was an American poet. His work combined a deep interest in form with a passionate desire to confront the horrors of 20th century history, with the Second World War, in which he fought, and the Holocaust being recurrent themes in his work.Biography
Early years
Hecht was born in New York City to German-Jewish parents. He was educated at various schools in the city – he was a classmate of Jack Kerouac at Horace Mann School – but showed no great academic ability, something he would later refer to as "conspicuous". However, as a freshman English student at Bard College in New York he discovered the works of Wallace Stevens, W. H. Auden, T. S. Eliot, and Dylan Thomas. It was at this point tha...
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Anthony Evan Hecht Poems
- The Dover Bitch: A Criticism Of Life
So there stood Matthew Arnold and this girl
With the cliffs of England crumbling away behind them,
And he said to her, 'Try to be true to me,
And I'll do the same for you, for things are bad ... - Sarabande On Attaining The Age Of Seventy-seven
The harbingers are come. See, see their mark;
White is their colour; and behold my head.
-- George Herbert
... - Curriculum Vitae
As though it were reluctant to be day,
.......Morning deploys a scale
.......Of rarities in gray,
And winter settles down in its chain-mail, ... - The End Of The Weekend
A dying firelight slides along the quirt
Of the cast iron cowboy where he leans
Against my father's books. The lariat
Whirls into darkness. My girl in skin tight jeans ... - Tarantula, Or The Dance Of Death
During the plague I came into my own.
It was a time of smoke-pots in the house
Against infection. The blind head of bone
Grinned its abuse ...
Top 10 most used topics by Anthony Evan Hecht
Time 10 Life 9 Away 8 Light 7 Dark 7 Cold 7 Black 7 World 7 Small 6 God 6Anthony Evan Hecht Quotes
Comments about Anthony Evan Hecht
Petloverhermine: 16jan/1923: anthony evan hecht is born in new york cityPoet_hadi: "others are bound to us, the gentle and blameless whose names are not confessed in the ceaseless palaver. my deares...
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