IN the newspaper office -- who are the spooks? Who wears the mythic coat invisible? Who pussyfoots from desk to desk with a speaking forefinger? Who gumshoes amid the copy paper with a whispering thumb? Speak softly -- the sacred cows may hear. Speak easy -- the sacred cows must be fed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE THAW by HAYDEN CARRUTH DEDICATION IN THESE DAY by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE AUDACIOUS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE CRANES OF IBYCUS by EMMA LAZARUS DOMESDAY BOOK: HENRY MURRAY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |