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Dramatic experience is not logical it may be subdued to the kind of coherence that we indicate when we speak, in criticism, of form.

Allen Tate

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Allen Tate
Age: 79 †
Born: 1899
Born: November 19
Died: 1979
Died: February 9
Author
Literary Critic
Poet
University Teacher
Writer
Winchester
Kentucky
John Orley Allen Tate
Criticism
Speak
Experience
Form
Subdued
May
Coherence
Kind
Indicate
Logical
Dramatic

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we know our end A packet of worm-seed, a garden of spent tissues.
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For often at Church I've seen the stained high glass Pour out the Virgin and Saints, twist and untwist The mortal youth of Christ astride an ass.
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Among friends one has the privilege of saying nothing the civility consists in the assumption that one's silence will be civilly understood. I can imagine a small gathering of friends who say nothing all evening: they recoil from saying anything that the others don't want to hear and their silence would be the subtlest courtesy.
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The dusk runs down the lane driven like hail Far off a precise whistle is escheat To the dark and then the towering weak and pale.
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Peering, I heard the hooves come down the hill. The posse passed, twelve horse the leader's face Was worn as limestone on an ancient sill.
Allen Tate
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I thought I heard the dark pounding its head On a rock, crying: Who are the dead?
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For intellect is a mansion where waste is without drain.
Allen Tate
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There is a calm for you where men and women Unroll the chill precision of moving feet.
Allen Tate
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Walk in this faithless grass with studious tread, Lest mice, weasels, germane beasts, too soon The tall hat and eyes, the fierce feet, for dead Descry, and fix you prone in their revelling moon.
Allen Tate
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Culture is the study of perfection, and the constant effort to achieve it.
Allen Tate
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We are afraid that we have not lived. We are not afraid of dying.
Allen Tate
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All the sea-gods are dead. You, Venus, come home To your salt maidenhead.
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Last night I fled until I came To streets where leaking casements dripped Stale lamplight from the corpse of flame A nervous window bled.
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Men expect too much, do too little.
Allen Tate
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At twelve I was determined to shoot only For honor at twenty not to shoot at all I know at thirty-three that one must shoot As often as one gets the rare chance - In killing there is more than commentary.
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What is the poem, after it is written? That is the question. Not where it came from or why.
Allen Tate
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I am not ridiculing verbal mechanisms, dreams, or repressions as origins of poetry all three of them and more besides may have a great deal to do with it.
Allen Tate
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Let us begin to understand the argument. There is a solution to everything: Science.
Allen Tate
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So the dubbed conceit Played nursery of cheat To clear the I of sleet.
Allen Tate
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I say that what one loves is best: The midnight fastness of the heart.
Allen Tate