John Crowe Ransom (1888 – 1974)
Southern American poet, essayist and academic.
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Two evils, monstrous either one apart,
Possessed me, and were long and loath at going:
A cry of Absence, Absence, in the heart,
And in the wood the furious winter blowing.
For I could tell you a story which is true;
I know a lady with a terrible tongue,
Blear eyes fallen from blue,
All her perfections tarnished—and yet it is not long
Since she was lovelier than any of you.
Here lies a lady of beauty and high degree.
Of chills and fever she died, of fever and chills,
The delight of her husbands, her aunts, an infant of three,
And of medicos marveling sweetly on her ills.
And a wandering beauty is a blade out of its scabbard.
You know how dangerous, gentlemen of threescore?
May you know it yet ten more.
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