|Richard Eberhart (1904-2005)|
O stay the hand (or paw) that would impart
Mistaken clutching in the final line
To young men's learning, far exceeding mine,
Before war shattered their distinctions fine
And gross, evoked by Eberhart,
A poet who lived a hundred years and wrote
Nothing better, more furious and free
In savaging mankind's stupidity.
But in Columbia's anthology
It ends one letter shy, a broken note.
The pivoted bar, engaging with a wheel
That's toothed so as to stop or further motion
Has vanished just as sure as their devotion
To what they felt as duty in an ocean
Of destruction claiming all they knew as real.
The pawl they studied here's a hairy paw.
Who thought that "Fury" had a silly end?
What student proofing galleys failed to mend
The flaw? Or editor to be the poet's friend?
Man's bent toward error — what the poet saw.