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A Matter of Locality
  
  
  

A Matter of Locality

If I lived in sight of the lake
I should make
A poem most exquisite, tender
Of its bosom at sunlight, its bosom in cloud
Of the gold of its eventide splendor.
If I lived in sound of the lake,
I should break
The heads of the fishermen yelling;
With a whack for the lies they are dying to tell
And some more for the ones they are telling.
[_]

No date, Paul Laurence Dunbar Collection, series 4, box 10, OHS. Quoted by permission.