Once and for all there's no genetic virtue. Our cherubic baldy flounces around, fresh out of Boulder, in black robes, Japanese words quick on his tongue. World War 11 nearly destroyed my family, so I ask him to learn Chinese. He understands I'm a fool. Then over a gallon of wine we agree there's no language for such matters, no happiness outside consciousness. Drink. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SEA-MEW by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE SNOW-SHOWER by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 98. HE AND I by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI BY BLUE ONTARIO'S SHORE by WALT WHITMAN IN AN ATELIER by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |