Poems and Portraits

To the Memory of The late Joseph Hitt This book is dedicated

We used to say: "A poseur's trick! For rhymes inscribed 'In Memory' Mean just the rhymester's vanity"... And would your eyebrows twitch at this, With your old winsome raillery?

You taugh me how to think: to see, To fix the forms that to and fro Across the mind's proscenium go; You taught me how to write; 'tis not Your fault I have not written so.

You taught me how to live; you showed Defeat a mien that never quailed; And with blithe lips that never paled You flouted Pain. O Heart of Gold, 'Tis not your fault if I have failed!

You taught me how to die; when Death Moved in between us, mute and grim, You smiled and made a friend of him... God grant to me a smile like yours When the blurred day lessens and grows dim!

And should this seem a stark parade Of such a bond as mine and thine, Forgive this boastful heart of mine That brags it to the crowd, because I love our names to intertwine.