About Max Eastman
1883 - 1969/AmericanMax Eastman was a poet, radical editor, translator, and author. He edited the socialist magazine The Masses (1912-1917) and translated Leon Trotsky into English. Max Forrester Eastman was born on January 4, 1883, the son of two ministers. He graduated
Selected Quotes
Poetry & Stories
Sometimes
SOMETIMES a child's voice crying on the streetComes winging like an arrow through the wind
Autumn Light
SO BRIGHT and soft is the sweet air of morning,And so tenderly the light descends,
Car-Window
A LIGHT is laughing thro' the scattered rain,A color quickens in the meadow;
In a Red Cross Hospital
TODAY I saw a face--it was a beak,That peered, with pale round yellow vapid eyes,
Anniversary
THE flowers we planted in the tender spring,And through the summer watched their blossoming,
About Max Eastman
Max Eastman: Quick Answers
Who is Max Eastman?
1883 - 1969/AmericanMax Eastman was a poet, radical editor, translator, and author. He edited the socialist magazine The Masses (1912-1917) and translated Leon Trotsky into English.
Where can I read Max Eastman's poetry?
Kavishala has 24 poems and stories by Max Eastman, free to read on this page, along with selected quotes you can share.
Poems & Stories by Max Eastman
Sometimes
SOMETIMES a child's voice crying on the streetComes winging like an arrow through the wind
Autumn Light
SO BRIGHT and soft is the sweet air of morning,And so tenderly the light descends,
Car-Window
A LIGHT is laughing thro' the scattered rain,A color quickens in the meadow;
In a Red Cross Hospital
TODAY I saw a face--it was a beak,That peered, with pale round yellow vapid eyes,
Anniversary
THE flowers we planted in the tender spring,And through the summer watched their blossoming,
Little Fishes
A MYRIAD curious fishes,Tiny and pink and pale,
In My Room
[**** Wei was a great Chinese painter and poet, of the th century --Max Eastman]IN THIS high room, my room of quiet space,Sun-yellow softened for my happiness,
To Marie Sukloff--An Assassin
IN YOUR lips moving fervently,Your eyes hot with fire,
The Lonely Bather
LOOSE-VEINED and languid as the yellow mistThat swoons along the river in the sun,
A Modern Messiah
SCARRED with sensuality and painAnd weary labor in a mind not hard
To an Actress
YOU walk as vivid as a sunny stormAcross the drinking meadows, through the eyes
Summer Sunday
BORNE on the low lake wind there floats to me,Out of the distant hill, a sigh of bells,
Selected Quotes by Max Eastman (चुनिंदा उद्धरण)
TODAY I saw a face--it was a beak,That peered, with pale round yellow vapid eyes,
A MYRIAD curious fishes,Tiny and pink and pale,
IN YOUR lips moving fervently,Your eyes hot with fire,
SO BRIGHT and soft is the sweet air of morning,And so tenderly the light descends,
SCARRED with sensuality and painAnd weary labor in a mind not hard
LOOSE-VEINED and languid as the yellow mistThat swoons along the river in the sun,
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