The following is a poem written by a 6th grade student in 1962. I found it yesterday in a stack of papers left behind in a garage by a teacher, who died decades ago. Oh, to be an atom Having so much power. Why, when
Have you heard the sound of one President’s silence while quiet eyes watch?
The young man lay alone at night, His head against a root. His nose was frosty with the snow His face was black with soot. But he was warm, he swore, he swore, Before the howl made at his foot, the howling at his foot.