The ball poem

The ball poem  

What is the boy now who has lost his ball,what, what is he to do? I sae it go mertily bouncing, down the street and then merrily over- there it is in the water! No use to say ,O there are other balls : An ultimate shaking grief fixes the boy an he stands rigid trembling staring down all his young days into harbour where his went. I woild ont intrude on him adime, another ball is worthless. Now he senses fiest responsibility in aworld of posdessions. People will take balls, bslls will be lost always, little boy. And no one buys a ball back. Money is external. He is learning well  behind his desperate eyes the epistemology of loss how to stand up knowing what every man must one day know and most know many days, how to stand up.