I just learned that a former teacher died. He was one of the most brilliant people I ever knew. To watch him and to listen to him was to watch and listen to a mind on fire.

His mannerisms were odd. When in front of the class, his gaze would fix over everyone's head, at some indefinable point in space. He would talk to there.

His specialty was the 18th century, Pope and Dryden, and he made those Augustans seem like the Beats. But he taught everything. The contemporary novel, German Lit, Milton, William Carlos Williams. His course on Spenser was legendary and had people walking around campus recapping cantos like they were episodes of Lost. I took a course with him on the Faust theme that I won't ever forget.

In addition he was a translator of Swedish poetry, and tonight I took down a volume of his that he gave me and was looking through it and came across this, his English...

A God of the roses draws nigh
for nigh are the days of the roses
And the goddess of lillies is here.
What joy when the eye of man closes.

See, curious fairies pass by,
in caskets the tints are a-making.
The violet god wishes dye.
The days of the violets are breaking.

We droop in the deities' bowers,
turn humus and pistil and ray.
And the gods are soon tinting the flowers
by dint of our bodies' decay.

As more of us cease to exist
the less shall gods do of keening.
Our lives, like the snow, turn to mist
when the summers of gods begins greening.





requiescat in pace.

it's nice to be able to hold on to something so physical of someone that inspired us


i bet that spark lives on in you and is reflected to your students every day

2the9ice.

What a life to be celebrated. Sounds like everyone who knew him was lucky. I'm sorry for your loss.

Intelligent professors rule. Certainly one who's able to pass through his love for literature.

Sorry for your/this world's loss.

i'm sure he's proud of how much he's touched you and others with his work.

what a beautiful poem