VOLUME I NO. 5                    JUNE, 1944



When the one-eyed man appeared at the door and stopped

The hiccuping feast, and some guests dropped

Meat in the salt pr to the waiting dogs,

And the king opened astounded mouth but did not invite,

And each sword shook on the wall

And the fiddles died in the music stall,

What did those large-fisted heroes think?

Who offered sacred welcome, and the first drink?


Their feet stirred the dogs, and their minds stirred

Before the one-eyed man in the cape had spoken a word.


Now did they guess, in their stupid, muscular way.

What rich horizon suddenly lay

In that sealed eye? And staring, did they find

That they, with two eyes apiece were blind,

While he, in his grey, single-knowing bull's eye look

Had already replaced their swords with a book,

Had rusted their armor, neglected the hardened thigh

And put their savage rewardable virtues by?

Did they guess from his widening iris that hordes

Of their cultured descendents, clever, affectionate, bored,

Hesitant soldiers made sad by conscripted heroics,

Ambitious of God yet accepting death as mere stoics,

Did they guess that those children, in spite of faltering hearts

Would construct a meaningful universe out of meaningless parts?

Did they guess? And was culture a too painful gift

That they did not immediately lift

The cup of welcome and praise the bringer?

Illiterate, rough-skinned, did they linger

Safe in barbarity, leaning

Away from the door and the one-eyed man and his meaning?


He had one good eye

For looking above, below, where real things lie,

But behind the dropped lid

What sky lay hid?


Then the dogs barked, the men rose

With the king's voice they chose

A place of honor and brought a full cup,

Then filled their own and drank up.