to sweeten your breath.
There must be something–
some one to praise
your triumphant diffidence,
your refusal of exertion,
the intelligence
that pulsed in the sensitive,
pale concavities of your forehead.
You never worked,
and were third
in
the class.
lowe you something-
I was absurd,
you were too bored,
quick and cool to laugh.
You are dear to me, Alfred;
our reluctant souls united
in
our unconventional,
illegal
games of chess
on the St. Mark's quadrangle.
You usually won-
motionless
as a lizard
in
the sun.
Robert Lowell
FRONTENAC
Hearing from some how the Sierra answers
Even today, to John Muir's nails and rifle
With human resonances,
I heard the long-tamed wilderness give back
Over the Lake and all too British Kingston
The one word, "Frontenac."
But after-echoes mocked: The rocky flanges
."
,
