By Davidson Donald
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Extra info for Poems, 1922-1961
Rough glory, rooted here, Feeds the lone vow, the lingering touch Of a late comrade sworn to remember you! Lights glow from river and town. The darkness stabs. And winter sweeps the undefended earth. C49 FROM A CHIMNEY CORNER An old room big with firelight holds the boy Alone, till grandmother conies, remembering. By the clock's tick, as grandfather looks down From an oval frame, she draws him back. The town Rises in mind, the house on the Lewisburg road, Where girl-grandmother lived, by battles made wise.
Then did a fellow smile? Better — or worse — he knew. But we know too much of Forrest Not to believe it true, And we know what call has a rider To come between dark and dawn To the bluegrass that sired him And the roads he fought on; And do not doubt that Forrest can come From Mississippi side Back where the living do not fight And only the dead can ride. C51 LATE ANSWER: A CIVIL WAR SEMINAR The talk had drifted further than they dreamed While in the dusk the Adirondacks gleamed, And all around us in the afterglow Vermont woods turned to purple, and the slow Fog-banners mustered out the darkling range.
By the clock's tick, as grandfather looks down From an oval frame, she draws him back. The town Rises in mind, the house on the Lewisburg road, Where girl-grandmother lived, by battles made wise. The voice murmurs, with the soft twilight knitting Till night gathers deeper on these two sitting Touched with old sorrow to unseal his eyes. He sees a dank morning near Christmas, sixty-four, With early mists trailing on window and door Shut and barred tight until there comes a sound Of slushing feet outside.