101 Poems, Number 50

Favorite Poems Throughout My Life

50: “Bells for John Whiteside’s Daughter,” in Chills and Fever (1924), by John Crowe Ransom (1888–1974)

I read this poem in high school first—

Back when I thought that verse was worst

Of all the literary forms we read.

So read a poem? It’s better dead?

But time went on—I grew a bit.

(I know I was surprised at it.)

And grew to love these painful lines—

A child, a death—the natural signs

That those survivors thought about

When hope had faded, then was out.

It seemed so wrong—the death of youth—

A bite from a most vicious tooth.

He taught at Kenyon College, and

He passed away there, understand.

He’s buried by the library,

Near books—appropriate … agree?

Link to poem.