Spring 1996 • Vol. XVIII No. 2 Kenyon Review ClassicsApril 1, 1996 |

President Harding’s Tomb in Ohio

From the Summer 1961 issue.     A hundred slag-piles north of us, At the mercy of the moon and rain, He lies in his ridiculous Tomb, our fellow citizen. No, I have never seen that place Where many shadows of frightened thieves Come fluttering by dark to face The pity of the catalpa leaves.   One holiday, one rainy week After the country fell apart, Hoover and Coolidge came to speak In undertones of Harding's part. His grave, a huge absurdity, Embarrassed all the visitors. Hoover and Coolidge crept away By night, the women closed their doors.   Now junkmen call their children in Before they catch their death of cold; Young lovers let the moon begin Its quick spring; and the day grows old; The mean one-legger who rakes up leaves Has chased the loafers out of the park; Minnegan Leonard half-believes In God, and the pool room goes dark;   America goes on, goes on Laughing, and Harding was a fool. Even his big pretentious stone Lays him bar

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