Max Reif

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Randall Jarrell


This poet who could write
with voice of child, drawn
from eyes whose spark
had never dimmed

walked into traffic at 51
to meet a solid, metal fate,

but the words of the wonderchild
still live in the books on library shelves,
need only a reader's
glance to ignite,
and what I want to know is

why fate had to be so solid
as it barrelled its say
to lay him low?

Submitted: Friday, September 21, 2007
Edited: Monday, April 11, 2011

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Comments about this poem (Randall Jarrell by Max Reif )

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  • Alison Cassidy (9/21/2007 9:36:00 PM)

    You say so little and yet convey so much. This reader is touched by your words and inspired to check out the subject of this elegant, unsentimental tribute. love, Allie xxxx (Report) Reply

  • Chris Mendros (9/21/2007 12:31:00 PM)

    Great tribute to one of the greats. Maintaining a sense of wonder is an invaluable asset to any creative person.
    I think i'll visit my library today... (Report) Reply

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