There
is someone I can bear —
" a master of indignation . . .
meant for a soldier
converted to letters, " who could

throw
a man through the window,
yet, " tender toward plants, " say, " Good God,
the violets! " (below).
" Accomplished in every

style
and tint " — considering meanwhile
infinity and eternity,
he could only say, " I'll
talk about them when I understand them. "