The letters always just evade the hand
One skates like a stone into a beam, falls like a bird.
Surely the past from which the letters rise
Is waiting in the future, past the graves?
The soldiers are all haunted by their lives.
Their claims upon their kind are paid in paper
That established a presence, like a smell.
In letters and in dreams they see the world.
They are waiting: and the years contract
To an empty hand, to one unuttered sound --
The soldier simply wishes for his name.
Randall Jarrell's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Mail Call by Randall Jarrell )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- Not a Poem at all, sEaN nOrTh
- to be empty all over again and move like.., RIC S. BASTASA
- and once again you decide to live., RIC S. BASTASA
- 'tonight at ten'., RIC S. BASTASA
- you must be lucky to have found it, RIC S. BASTASA
- love became l o v e became LOVE and now .., Mandolyn ...
- that self-confidence, RIC S. BASTASA
- do not have to fathom it like some kind .., RIC S. BASTASA
- amor patriae, RIC S. BASTASA
- zanny on top of her hill, RIC S. BASTASA