What is our innocence, what is our guilt? All are naked, none is safe. And whence is courage: the unanswered question, the resolute doubt, — dumbly calling, deafly listening—that in misfortune, even death, encourage others and in its defeat, stirs the soul to be strong? He sees deep and is glad, who accedes to mortality and in his imprisonment rises upon himself as the sea in a chasm, struggling to be free and unable to be, in its surrendering finds its continuing. So he who strongly feels, behaves. The very bird, grown taller as he sings, steels his form straight up. Though he is captive, his mighty singing says, satisfaction is a lowly thing, how pure a thing is joy. This is mortality, this is eternity.
Marianne Moore (1887–1972) was a major American modernist poet celebrated for her precise, witty, and innovative style. Born near St. Louis and raised mainly by her mother, she studied biology at Bryn Mawr College, which sharpened her keen observational eye.
Her poetry is known for its exact language, syllabic meter, intricate descriptions of animals and objects, and the clever incorporation of quotations, often exploring themes of restraint, independence, and the relationship between art and nature. Key works include Observations (1924), featuring poems like “Marriage” and “An Octopus.”
She edited The Dial magazine and later became a beloved cultural figure, winning the Pulitzer Prize, National Book Award, and Bollingen Prize for her Collected Poems in 1951. Moore died in New York City in 1972, leaving behind a legacy of intellectual depth and originality.
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