The Oxford Book of Contemporary Verse, edited by D. J. Enright, is a poetry anthology from 1980, published by Oxford University Press. It might be considered one of the 'last words' from a founder-member of The Movement, with its comments in the Introduction still in an anti-romantic vein, and that 'the editor remains unpersuaded that wit is necessarily evasive in some shabby way or emotionally lowering'. It was reissued in 1995 under the title Oxford Book of Verse 1945–1980 (ISBN 0-19-283188-7).
Read more about Oxford Book Of Contemporary Verse: Poets in The Oxford Book of Contemporary Verse
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“Poor Casey Jones he was all right,
He stuck by his duty both day an’ night,”
—Unknown. Casey Jones. . .
Oxford Book of Light Verse, The. W. H. Auden, ed. (1938)
“Poor Casey Jones he was all right,
He stuck by his duty both day an’ night,”
—Unknown. Casey Jones. . .
Oxford Book of Light Verse, The. W. H. Auden, ed. (1938)
“During the first formative centuries of its existence, Christianity was separated from and indeed antagonistic to the state, with which it only later became involved. From the lifetime of its founder, Islam was the state, and the identity of religion and government is indelibly stamped on the memories and awareness of the faithful from their own sacred writings, history, and experience.”
—Bernard Lewis, U.S. Middle Eastern specialist. Islam and the West, ch. 8, Oxford University Press (1993)
“When the book comes out it may hurt you—but in order for me to do it, it had to hurt me first. I can only tell you about yourself as much as I can face about myself.”
—James Baldwin (1924–1987)
“Anyone who has invented a better mousetrap, or the contemporary equivalent, can expect to be harassed by strangers demanding that you read their unpublished manuscripts or undergo the humiliation of public speaking, usually on remote Midwestern campuses.”
—Barbara Ehrenreich (b. 1941)
“Some poems are for holidays only. They are polished and sweet, but it is the sweetness of sugar, and not such as toil gives to sour bread. The breath with which the poet utters his verse must be that by which he lives.”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)