A Morning

Max EastmanMax Eastman

1 min read · 12.4K reads

AGAIN this morning the bold autumn,
Spreading through the woods her sacred fire,
Brings the rich color of your presence
Warmly luminous to my desire--Brings to my heart the dear wild worship,
High and wayward as the windy air,
And to my pulse the hot sweet passion
Burning crimson like a poison there.
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Max Eastman
About the poet

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.…

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More from Max Eastman

  1. Sometimes

    SOMETIMES a child's voice crying on the streetComes winging like an arrow through the wind

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  2. Autumn Light

    SO BRIGHT and soft is the sweet air of morning,And so tenderly the light descends,

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  3. Car-Window

    A LIGHT is laughing thro' the scattered rain,A color quickens in the meadow;

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  4. In a Red Cross Hospital

    TODAY I saw a face--it was a beak,That peered, with pale round yellow vapid eyes,

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  5. Anniversary

    THE flowers we planted in the tender spring,And through the summer watched their blossoming,

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