Max Reif - Randall Jarrell

This poet who could write
with voice of child, drawn
from eyes whose spark
had never dimmed

walked into traffic at 51
to meet a solid, metal fate,

but the words of the wonderchild
still live in the books on library shelves,
need only a reader's
glance to ignite,
and what I want to know is

why fate had to be so solid
as it barrelled its say
to lay him low?

Max Reif

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/randall-jarrell/