The Golden Ecco Anthology

Jacket Description/Back: Choosing 100 great poems of the English language is a staggering prospect for even the worthiest editor. It involves the considerable task of culling from the entire canon a select group of poets and each one's single most important poem. In The Golden Ecco Anthology, Mark Strand, recent poet laureate of the United States and editor of Contemporary American Poets, Another Republic, and The Best American Poetry 1991, combines 100 poetic voices in a masterful celebration of the English language. With seamless grace he moves from era to era and voice to voice and his selections are often surprising, always remarkable. It is safe to say that Strand, who received the 1992 Rebekah Johnson Bobbitt National Prize for Poetry for his 1990 collection The Continuous Life and last year's prestigious Bollingen Prize, has a vision that encompasses both the consummate practice and informed appreciation of his art. The poems that Strand chooses do not in their intractable finesse slam the door on the poets' skills as if to say: "There you have it!" On the contrary, his choices hint at range in virtuosity and provide wonderful openings into the artists' greater work. Publisher Marketing: ANONYMOUS (13th- I5th century, British) Sir Patrick Spew The king sits in Dumferline town, Drinking the blude-reid wine: O whar will I get a guid sailor To sail this ship of mine? Up and spak an eldern knicht, Sat at the king's richt knee: Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor That sails upon the sea. The king has written a braid letter And signed it wi' his hand, And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, Was walking on the sand. The first line that Sir Patrick read, A loud lauch lauched he; The next line that Sir Patrick read, The tear blinded his ee. O wha is this has done this deed, This ill deed done to me, To send me out this time o'the year, To sail upon the sea? Make haste, make haste, my mirry men all, Our guid ship sails the morn. O say na sae, my master dear, For I fear a deadly storm. Late late yestre'en I saw the new moon Wi'the auld moon in her arm, And I fear, I fear, my dear master, That we will come to harm. O our Scots nobles were richt laith To weet their cork-heeled shoon, But lang owre a' the play were played Their hats they swam aboon. O lang, lang may their ladies sit, Wi' their fans into their hand, O e'er they see Sir Patrick Spens Come sailing to the land. O lang, lang may the ladies stand, Wi' their gold kembs in their hair, Waiting for their ain dear lords, For they'll see thame na mair. Half o'er, half o'er to Aberdour It's fifty fadom deep, And there lies guid Sir Patrick Spens, Wi' the Scots lords at his feet. Review Citations:

Booklist 08/01/1994 pg. 2018 (EAN 9780880013666, Hardcover)

Publishers Weekly 06/27/1994 pg. 67 (EAN 9780880013666, Hardcover)

Contributor Bio:  Strand, Mark Mark Strand is an outdoor generalist raised in a family headed by his father, a passionate outdoorsman. He grew up fishing, hunting, and shooting for fun, changing the game as the seasons turned. Because he went fishing and hunting on some days he should have been in class, it took Mark five plus years to be graduated from the University of Minnesota with a degree in Journalism and a minor in Fisheries & Wildlife. Strand lives in Minnesota with wife Jill, son Willie, daughter Samantha, a hunting dog named Ali, and an amazing collection of stuff needed to get outside and have fun.