Stuart Pratt Sherman
June, 1924
"Another good man gone East!" No more to see
Him on our street,—tall, strong and slightly bent,
His solemn face light up so suddenly
In salutation,—hear the jest that's sent
By his satiric wit,—is loss indeed.
Yet flashing memories stay; A book-lined room,
A paradise for those who love to read,
Where gathered friends who sought some mental boon,
A littered desk, a fireplace deep and wide
And dominating all, the master mind,
The gallant, militant spirit that defied
All shallow pretense, struck and yet was kind
Neighbor, poet, critic—American;
A simple, true and rarely gifted man.
Him on our street,—tall, strong and slightly bent,
His solemn face light up so suddenly
In salutation,—hear the jest that's sent
By his satiric wit,—is loss indeed.
Yet flashing memories stay; A book-lined room,
A paradise for those who love to read,
Where gathered friends who sought some mental boon,
A littered desk, a fireplace deep and wide
And dominating all, the master mind,
The gallant, militant spirit that defied
All shallow pretense, struck and yet was kind
Neighbor, poet, critic—American;
A simple, true and rarely gifted man.
