This poem is taken from Poetry Nation 5 Number 5, 1975.
Two Medallions(1)
Rousseau in His Day
So many nights the solitary lamp had burned;
So many nights his lone mind, slowing down
Deliberately, had questioned, as it turned
Mooning upon its drying stem, what arc
Over a lifetime day had moved him through.
Always he hoped he might deserve a Plutarch,
Not to be one posterity forgot.
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