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Stephen Vincent Benet - Going Back To School
Work rating: Low

The boat ploughed on. Now Alcatraz was past 
And all the grey waves flamed to red again 
At the dead sun`s last glimmer. Far and vast 
The Sausalito lights burned suddenly 
In little dots and clumps, as if a pen 
Had scrawled vague lines of gold across the hills; 
The sky was like a cup some rare wine fills, 
And stars came as he watched 
                           — and he was free 
One splendid instant — back in the great room, 
Curled in a chair with all of them beside 
And the whole world a rush of happy voices, 
With laughter beating in a clamorous tide. . . . 
Saw once again the heat of harvest fume 
Up to the empty sky in threads like glass, 
And ran, and was a part of what rejoices 
In thunderous nights of rain; lay in the grass 
Sun-baked and tired, looking through a maze 
Of tiny stems into a new green world; 
Once more knew eves of perfume, days ablaze 
With clear, dry heat on the brown, rolling fields; 
Shuddered with fearful ecstasy in bed 
Over a book of knights and bloody shields . . . 
The ship slowed, jarred and stopped. There, straight ahead, 
Were dock and fellows. Stumbling, he was whirled 
Out and away to meet them — and his back 
Slumped to the old half-cringe, his hands fell slack; 
A big boy`s arm went round him — and a twist 
Sent shattering pain along his tortured wrist, 
As a voice cried, a bloated voice and fat, 
"Why it`s Miss Nancy! Come along, you rat!"
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