Seedy Henry rose up shy in de world <br />& shaved & swung his barbells, duded Henry up <br />and p.a.'d poor thousands of persons on topics of grand <br />moment to Henry, ah to those less & none. <br />Wif a book of his in either hand <br />he is stript down to move on. <br /> <br />—Come away, Mr. Bones. <br /> <br />—Henry is tired of the winter, <br />& haircuts, & a squeamish comfy ruin-prone proud national <br /> mind, & Spring (in the city so called). <br />Henry likes Fall. <br />Hé would be prepared to líve in a world of Fáll <br />for ever, impenitent Henry. <br />But the snows and summers grieve & dream; <br /> <br />thése fierce & airy occupations, and love, <br />raved away so many of Henry's years <br />it is a wonder that, with in each hand <br />one of his own mad books and all, <br />ancient fires for eyes, his head full <br />& his heart full, he's making ready to move on.<br /><br />John Berryman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dream-song-77-seedy-henry-rose-up-shy/
