Robert Francis (August 12, 1901; Upland, Pennsylvania â July 13, 1987) was an American poet who lived most of his life in Amherst, Massachusetts.
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Life[edit]
Robert Francis was born on August 12, 1901 in Upland, Pennsylvania.[1] He graduated from Harvard University in 1923. He would later attend the Graduate School of Education at Harvard where he once said that he felt that he'd come home. He lived in a small house he had built for himself in 1940, which he called Fort Juniper, near Cushman Village in Amherst, Massachusetts. Francis chose to name his home 'Fort Juniper' since juniper is nearly indestructible. His main poetic mentor was Robert Frost, and indeed Francis's first volume of poems, Stand Here With Me (1936), displays a poetic voice reminiscent of Frost's own in carefully crafted nature poems. However, his second book of poetry Valhalla and Other Poems was awarded with the 1939 Shelley Memorial Award.[2] Frost once said: 'poetry is the only acceptable way to say one thing and mean another.'
Later work[edit]
Francis published very little during the 1940sâ1950s. He decided that 'for better or worse, I was a poet and there was really nothing else for me to do but go on being a poet. It was too late to change even if I had wanted to. Poetry was my most central, intense and inwardly rewarding experience.'[3] In 1960, Francis published The Orb Weaver, which revived his reputation as a poet.
Francis uses hidden meanings in his poems, which suggest another way that Frost made an impression on Francis's poetry. In later volumes, Francis found a voice distinctively his own, relaxed in meter and characterized by puns, word-plays, slant rhymes, and repetitions of key words. Aside from one long narrative poem in Frostian blank verse, Francis's poetry consists largely of concise lyrics, somewhat limited in thematic range but intensely crafted and deeply personal. Frost would later say that Robert Francis was America's best neglected poet. His poems often regard nature, and exhibit a distinct imagistic quality to them in representing the essence of the natural world. Also, the poems he wrote about baseball are perennial classics in that they are memorable. His autobiography, The Trouble with Francis, was published in 1971 and details his struggle with neglect.[4] Francis died July 13, 1987.
Jane discovers an anomaly similar to the one that brought Thor to Earth. In the meantime, Thor has been trying to bring peace to the nine realms. Yts subs thor dark world.
Awards[edit]
Francis won the Shelley Memorial Award in 1939. In 1984 the Academy of American Poets gave Francis its award for distinguished poetic achievement.[5]
Works[edit]Poetry[edit]![]()
Autobiography[edit]Robert Francis One By One 320 Rar Software
References[edit]
External links[edit]
Robert Francis One By One 320 Rar Album
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With cover art that mimics Bob Dylan's The Times They Are a-Changin' right down to the typeface, One by One demands (and, perhaps, deserves) to become a staple of the modern-day folk catalog. Nineteen-year-old Robert Francis is already impressively self-sufficient, playing nearly ever instrument -- from guitar to glockenspiel -- on this self-produced debut. It would be an understatement to say that Francis' musicianship belies his young age, as some of One's best songs already harbor the rustic, world-weary quality that many artists spend their careers cultivating. Whether or not Francis has actually experienced the pastoral blues that color his lyrics is beyond the point; his dusty baritone and heartland imagery make the potential fib worthwhile. From the right-handed piano twinkles of opener 'Mama Don't Come' to the gorgeously hypnotic, looping closer, there's an airy sense of space to these ten songs. Even the album's most ornate material -- the seven-minute title track, perhaps, with its climax of co-ed vocals and sweeping violin -- is allotted enough room to breathe. When the orchestration becomes lush, Francis usually swoops in with a musical reprieve, be it a momentary break in a riff's rhythm or a touch of reverb to widen the sound. Even more interesting is his love for subtle, esoteric flourishes: a dog barking in the middle of 'The Devil's Mountains,' right before the bluesy pedal steel gives way to mariachi horns; delayed violin in verse two of 'Little Girl'; the church-like harmonies in 'Dakota.' It's impressive proof that Francis' self-appointment as producer isn't the result of some youthful ego trip, but rather the most logical choice for a penny-pinched teenager -- or, for that matter, anyone whose music mirrors these rustic folk-pop strains. Dylan it ain't, but One by One is one solid debut.
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