He got to he age when he wanted to lecture,
A silver-scalped half-moon monk among the prefecture
Of Eliot, Frost, Stevens, and Bishop.
And he stood at the lectern
And sought to elicit
Their metaphor, their pedagogy,
Maggie and May,
Milly and Molly.
Professor, I'll listen,
I promise to vigil
If you'll so reward me
At year's end epistle,
(But I know that there's something,
Wisdom or other, to tie me to them,
These legends, your brothers.)
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