Thiel College - Endymon Yearbook (Greenville, PA)

Page 9 text:

Steady now . . . That was his wife Making' that small queer inarticulate sound Like a knifeg Steady there ... I ,et him slip easily into the ground: Do not look at her, She is lighting for breath . . She a foreigner . . Polak . . . like him . . . she cannot understand . . It is hard . . . Leave her alone with death :Xml a shovelful of sand. HU the pity of it, the pity of it, Iago ! . Christ, what a hell ls packed into that line! Each syllable Bleecls when you say it . . . No matter: Chicago ls a 'lar cry from Cracow: A And anyhow What have Poles To rlo with such extraneous things as hearts and souls? 'llhere is nothing here to beat the breast over, Nothing' to relish the curious, Not a smell of the romantic: this fellow Was hardly your yearning lover ' l'i1'lltSi1'ZlllC1lZ no punchinellog lilut just a hunky in a steel mill. XfVhy then fuss Because his heavy Slavic 'face went yellow VX'itl1 the roaring' furnace dust? Now that he is in '.If'he cool sweet crush of dirt, to hell with your sobbing violin Your sanctimonious 'cellol l.et the mill bellow! 7

Page 8 text:

STCCI by Joseph Auslancler This man is dead. Everything' you can say Is now quite definitely said: This man held up his head And had his day, Then turned his head a little to one way And slept instead. Young horses give up their pride: You break them in By brief metallic discipline And something else beside . . So this man died. Wfhile he lived I did not know This mang I never heard His name. Now that he lies as though He were remembering' some word lle had forgotten yesterday or so, It seems a bit absurd i That his blank lids and matted hair should grow Suddenly familiar . . . l,et him be interred. 4

Page 10 text:

II. If you have ever had to do with steel: The open-hearth, the blooming-mill, the cranes Howling under a nity-ton load, trains Yowling in the black pits where you reel Groggily across a sluice of orange hre, a sheet Tongued from the conduits that bubble blue green, if Ever you have got a single whiff Out of Bessemeids belly, felt the drag And drip and curdle of steel spit hissing against hot slag: If ever you have had to eat One hundred and thirty degrees of solid heat, Then screwed the hose to the spigot, drowned in steam. Dartecl back when the rods kicked up a stream O17 fluid steel and had to duck the ladle that slobbered over, and scream Your throat raw to get your Goddam! through- Then I ani talking to you. Steve did that for ten years with quiet eyes, And body down to the belt caked wet Wiith hardening cinder splash and stiffening sweat And whatever else there is that clots and never utterly dries ll-le packed the mud and dolomite, made back-wall, I-lerded the heat, and placed his throw in tall Terrible arcs behind smoked glasses, and watchedit fall Heavy and -straight and true, Wihile the blower kept the gas at a growl and the brew Yelled red and the inelter hollered Hkleow l and you raveled Her out and the thick soup gargled and you traveled Like the devil to get out from undei '... Wlell, Steve For ten years of abdorninal heft and heave VVorked steel. So muchfor that. And after Ten years of night shifts, fourteen hours each, The Bessemers burn your nerves up, bleach Rebellion out of your bones: and laughter 6