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My darling boy whom I shall never know, My son, I love you in my deepest fears.

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
Love
Darling
Deepest
Fears
Son
Boys
Shall
Never

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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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The torrent of the reaching shade Broke shadow into all its parts, What then had been of shadow made Found exigence in fits and starts.
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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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So the poet, who wants to be something that he cannot be, and is a failure in plain life, makes up fictitious versions of his predicament that are interesting even to other persons because nobody is a perfect automobile salesman.
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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.
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Poets, in their way, are practical men they are interested in results.
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Religion is the sole technique for the validating of values.
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But in our age the appeal to authority is weak, and I am of my age.
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Antiquity breached mortality with myths. Narcissus is vocabulary. Hermes decorates A cornice on the Third National Bank.
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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.
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The dreary flies, lazy and casual, Stick to the ceiling, buzz along the wall. O heart, the spider shuffles from the mould Weaving, between the pinks and grapes, his pall.
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Therefore with idle hands and head I sit In late December before the fire's daze Punished by crimes of which I would be quit.
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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.
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We know the particular poem, not what it says that we can restate.
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Let us begin to understand the argument. There is a solution to everything: Science.
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There is a calm for you where men and women Unroll the chill precision of moving feet.
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The innocent mansion of a panther's heart!
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The Spring I seek is in a new face only.
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Venus knows country matters: country knows Venus: For Love, Dione's boy, was born on the farm.
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So the dubbed conceit Played nursery of cheat To clear the I of sleet.
Allen Tate