His malice was a pimple down his good <br />big face, with its sly eyes. I must be sorry <br />Mr Frost has left: <br />I like it so less I don't understood— <br />he couldn't hear or see well—all we sift— <br />but this is a bad story. <br /> <br />He had fine stories and was another man <br />in private; difficult, always. Courteous, <br />on the whole, in private. <br />He apologize to Henry, off & on, <br />for two blue slanders; which was good of him. <br />I don't know how he made it. <br /> <br />Quickly, off stage with all but kindness, now. <br />I can't say what I have in mind. Bless Frost, <br />any odd god around. <br />Gentle his shift, I decussate & command, <br />stoic deity. For a while here we possessed <br />an unusual man.<br /><br />John Berryman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dream-song-37-three-around-the-old-gentleman/
