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Famous poet / 1888-1953. Eugene O Neill. Eugene O'Neill remains a pivotal figure in American theater. His work, steeped in the early 20th century's social and intellectual currents, grappled with themes of family dysfunction, addiction, and the search for meaning in a rapidly changing world.
3 days ago · Most popular poems of Eugene O'Neill, famous Eugene O'Neill and all 7 poems in this page.
Eugene O'Neill. Next. Weary am I of the tumult, sick of the staring crowd, Pining for wild sea places where the soul may think aloud. Fled is the glamour of cities, dead as the ghost of a dream, While I pine anew for the tint of blue on the breast of the old Gulf Stream.
Here you will find a collection of famous poems of Eugene O'Neill. The list is ordered alphabatically. You can also browse other poems on different poem type using the poem types shown on the right side.
Eugene O’Neill was essentially an American playwright and sometime poet who received the honour Nobel Laureate in Literature in 1936. Much of his work could be said to have a tragic quality about it but there were light-hearted pieces as well.
Eugene O’Neill: From Cardiff to Xanadu – An article examining the life and works of America’s first true dramatic genius. Eugene O’Neill Index – An index of articles on the American dramatist.
Eugene O'Neill. Weary am I of the tumult, sick of the staring crowd, Pining for wild sea places where the soul may think aloud. Fled is the glamour of cities, dead as the ghost of a dream, While I pine anew for the tint of blue on the breast of the old Gulf Stream.
Classic Poetry Series. Eugene O'Neill - poems - Publication Date: 2012. Publisher: Poemhunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive. Eugene O'Neill(16 October 1888 – 27 November 1953) Eugene Gladstone O'Neill was an American playwright and Nobel laureate in Literature. <b> Early Life</b>
Submarine. MY soul is a submarine. My aspirations are torpedoes. I will hide unseen. Beneath the surface of life. Watching for ships, Dull, heavy-laden merchant ships, Rust-eaten, grimy galleons of commerce. Wallowing with obese assurance, Too sluggish to fear or wonder, Mocked by the laughter of waves. And the spit of disdainful spray.
Nocturne. THE sunset gun booms out in hollow roar. Night breathes upon the waters of the bay. The river lies, a symphony in grey, Melting in shadow on the further shore. A sullen coal barge tugs its anchor chain. A shadow sinister, with one faint light. Flickering wanly in the dim twilight, It lies upon the harbor like a stain. Silence.
