Spring 1944 • Vol. VI No. 2 Poetry |

With a Posthumous Medal

His hands were talented for intricate transactions; He might, but for the time, have planned a city Or written music all night in splendid rooms Or righted recalcitrant hollyhocks or children; He might have died after a wide and easy fame As a farmer does, or a cutter of stones. But in the astonishment of midnight, the lewd transactions Of hunger and homelessness, where all are children, He could not know his eyes had turned to stones; On the river margins of a stricken city He survived his childhood in unpainted rooms With a criminal's stance and a movie's idea of fame. In the disputations on gardens or locker-rooms He might, but for the time, be leader of transactions In a white suburb, or mayor of a city Fretfully occupied with laying cornerstones. Aesthetics of mere living might have won him fame In the staunch songs of his children's children. But the time was all against him in the impoverished city; While fathers asked for bread and broke their teeth on stones And comic pi

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Of Men and Places

By Royall H. Snow

His hands were talented for intricate transactions; He might, but for the time, have planned a city Or written music all night in splendid rooms Or righted recalcitrant hollyhocks or […]

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