  Trimmed but not cut too short; the temples shaved, Neck clipped around, not shaved, an oil shampoo, You have a world of time before the train And when it comes it stops ten minutes—then The depot's just a block away. Oh yes, This is my own, my native town. But when I earn the money to get out, I go. I've had my share of bad luck—seems to me Without my fault, as least life's actinism Makes what we call our luck or lack of luck.... Go down this street a block, find Burney Cole And ask him why I was not graduated From Sepo's High School at the time he was. It was this way: I fell in love that spring With Lillie Balzer, and it ended us, Lillie and me, for finishing that year. I thought of Lillie morning, noon and night And Lillie thought of me, and so we flunked. That thinned the class to Burney Cole, and he Stood up and spoke twelve minutes scared to death. Progress of Science was his theme, committed To memory, the gestures timed, they trained him Out in the woods near Big Creek. Lil and I Sat there and laughed—the town was in the hall, Applause terrific, bouquets thick as hops. And when they handed Burney his diploma The crowd went wild. How does this razor work? Not shaving you too close? I try to please ... Burney was famous for a night, you see. They thought his piece was wonderful, such command Of language, depth of thought beyond his years. Next morning with his ears and cheeks still burning, Flushed like a god, as Keats says, Burney stood Behind the counter in the grocery store Beginning then to earn the means to take A course in Science—when a customer Came in and said: a piece of star tobacco, Young fellow, hurry! Such is fame—one night You're on a platform gathering in bouquets, Next morning without honor and forgotten, Commanded like a boot-black. Five years now Burney has clerked, some say has given up The course in science, and I hate to ask him ... But as for me, there was a lot of talk, And Lillie went away, began to sport. She's been around the world, is living now In Buenos Ayres. Love's a funny thing: It levels ranks, puts monarch or savant Beside the chorus girl and in her hands. I stayed here, did not have to leave for shame, But Lillie changed my life. When she was gone My conscience hurt me, and that very fall When I was most susceptible, responsive, And penitent, we had a great revival. And just to use the lingo: after much Wrestling at the Seat of Mercy, prayers And ministrations then I saw the light, Became converted, got the ecstasy. I wrote to Lillie who was in Chicago To seek salvation, told her of myself. She wrote back, you are cracked—go take a pill.... I know you've come to get your hair trimmed, shaved, Also to hear my story—you shall hear. The elders saw in me a likely man And said there is a preacher. First I knew They had a purse made up to send me off To learn theology, and so I went. I plunged into the stuff that preachers learn: The Hebrew language, Aramaic and Syriac; The Hebrew ideas—rapid survey—oh, yes, Rapid survey, that was the usual thing. Histories of Syria and Palestine; Theology of the Synoptics, eschatology. Doctrine of the Trinity, Docetism, And Christian writings to Eusebius. Well, in the midst of all of this what happens? A fellow shows me Draper and this stuff Went up like shale and soft rock in a blast. My room mate was John Smith, he handed me This book of Draper's. What do you suppose? This scamp was there to get at secret things, Was laughing in his sleeve, had no belief. He used to say: "They'd never know me now." By which he meant he was a different person In some round dozen places, and each place Was different from the others, he was native To each place, played his part there, was unknown As fitted to another, hence his words "They'd never know me now." And so it was This John Smith acted through the course, came through A finished preacher. But they found me out As soon as Draper gnawed my faith in two. The good folks back in Sepo took away The purse they lent and left me high and dry. So I came back and learned the barber's trade, And here I am. But when I save enough I mean to start a little magazine To show what is the matter. Do you know? It's something on the shelf—not booze or jam: It's that old bible, precious family bible, That record of the Hebrew thought and life— That book that takes a course of years to study, Requires Aramaic, Hebrew, Greek and Coptic And epigraphy, metaphysics, not Because the book itself is rich in these But just because when you would know a book In every character and turn of phrase And know what's back of it and went into it You draw the learning of the world, that's all. Take Plato, if you will, and study him After this manner, you will travel far In every land and realm. But this is nothing. The prea |
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