Dream Song 37: Three around the Old Gentleman

 His malice was a pimple down his good
big face, with its sly eyes.
 I must be sorry
Mr Frost has left:
I like it so less I don't understood—
he couldn't hear or see well—all we sift—
but this is a bad story.


He had fine stories and was another man
in private; difficult, always.
 Courteous,
on the whole, in private.

He apologize to Henry, off & on,
for two blue slanders; which was good of him.

I don't know how he made it.


Quickly, off stage with all but kindness, now.

I can't say what I have in mind.
 Bless Frost,
any odd god around.

Gentle his shift, I decussate & command,
stoic deity.
 For a while here we possessed
an unusual man.

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