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Alvin Langdon Coburn The Bridge, Ipswich 1904 photogravure Phillips Collection, Washington DC |
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Alvin Langdon Coburn Portrait of writer George Meredith 1904 photogravure Phillips Collection, Washington DC |
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Alvin Langdon Coburn The Embankment, London ca. 1905 photogravure Phillips Collection, Washington DC |
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Alvin Langdon Coburn Regent's Canal, London ca. 1905 photogravure Phillips Collection, Washington DC |
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Alvin Langdon Coburn Portrait of writer Edward Carpenter 1905 photogravure Phillips Collection, Washington DC |
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Alvin Langdon Coburn Portrait of writer Henry James 1906 photogravure Phillips Collection, Washington DC |
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Alvin Langdon Coburn Portrait of painter John Singer Sargent 1907 photogravure Phillips Collection, Washington DC |
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Alvin Langdon Coburn Portrait of writer and caricaturist Max Beerbohm 1908 photogravure Phillips Collection, Washington DC |
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Alvin Langdon Coburn Portrait of writer Hilaire Belloc 1908 photogravure Phillips Collection, Washington DC |
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Alvin Langdon Coburn Portrait of painter William Orpen 1908 photogravure Phillips Collection, Washington DC |
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Alvin Langdon Coburn Portrait of painter William Nicholson 1908 photogravure Phillips Collection, Washington DC |
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Alvin Langdon Coburn Portrait of writer John Galsworthy 1909 photogravure Phillips Collection, Washington DC |
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Alvin Langdon Coburn London - St Paul's from Ludgate Circus 1909 photogravure Phillips Collection, Washington DC |
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Alvin Langdon Coburn The British Lion (Trafalgar Square) ca. 1910 photogravure Phillips Collection, Washington DC |
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Alvin Langdon Coburn Fifth Avenue from the St Regis, New York ca. 1910 photogravure Phillips Collection, Washington DC |
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Alvin Langdon Coburn Portrait of poet Herbert Trench 1913 photogravure Phillips Collection, Washington DC |
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Alvin Langdon Coburn Portrait of painter and critic Roger Fry 1913 photogravure Phillips Collection, Washington DC |
from Midnight
Below the river sparkled. As I said,
everything glittered – the stars, the bridge lights, the important
illumined buildings that seemed to stop at the river
then resume again, man's work
interrupted by nature. From time to time I saw
the evening pleasure boats; because the night was warm,
they were still full.
This was the great excursion of my childhood.
The short train ride culminating in a gala tea by the river,
then what my called our promenade,
then the boat itself that cruised back and forth over the dark water –
The coins in my aunt's hand passed into the hand of the captain.
I was handed my ticket, each time a fresh number.
Then the boat entered the current.
I held my brother's hand.
We watched the monuments succeeding one another
always in the same order
so that we moved into the future
while experiencing perpetual recurrences.
The boat traveled up the river and then back again.
It moved through time and then
through a reversal of time, though our direction
was forward always, the prow continuously
breaking a path in the water.
It was like a religious ceremony
in which the congregation stood
awaiting, beholding,
and that was the entire point, the beholding.
The city drifted by,
half on the right side, half on the left.
See how beautiful the city is,
my aunt would say to us. Because
it was lit up, I expect. Or perhaps because
someone had said so in the printed booklet.
– Louise Glück (2014)