William Jay Smith

William Jay Smith (April 22, 1918 – August 18, 2015) was an American poet. He was appointed the nineteenth Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 1968 to 1970. Quotes A silver-scaled dragon with jaws flaming red Sits at my elbow and toasts my bread. I hand him fat slices, and then, one by one, He hands them back when he sees they are done. "The Toaster". Laughing Time (Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1955), p. 20 The long-haired Yak has long black hair, He lets it grow — he doesn't care. He lets it grow and grow and grow, He lets it trail along the stair. Does he ever go to the barbershop? NO! How wild and woolly and devil-may-care A long-haired Yak with long black hair Would look when perched in a barber chair! "Yak". Boy Blue's Book of Beasts (Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1957), p. 7 He hangs in the hall by his black cravat, The ladies faint, and the children holler: Only my Daddy could look like that, And I love my Daddy like he loves his Dollar. "American Primitive", st. 3. Poems, 1947–1957 (Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1957), p. 6 Now touch the air softly, Step gently. One, two... I’ll love you till roses Are robin’s-egg blue; I’ll love you till gravel Is eaten for bread, And lemons are orange, And lavender’s red. "A Pavane for the Nursery", st. 1. Poems, 1947–1957 (1957), p. 18 Cf. W. H. Auden, "As I Walked Out One Evening" (1937) And I’ll love you as long As the furrow the plow, As However is Ever, And Ever is Now. "A Pavane for the Nursery", st. 4. Poems, 1947–1957 (1957), p. 18 I know a place all fennel-green and fine Far from the white ice cap, the glacial flaw, Where shy mud hen and dainty porcupine Dance in delight by a quivering pawpaw; "A Green Place", st. 1. Poems, 1947–1957 (1957), p. 19 The lariat snaps; the cowboy rolls    His pack, and mounts and rides away. Back to the land the cowboy goes. "The Closing of the Rodeo", st. 1. Poems, 1947–1957 (1957), p. 68 Thinking of you this evening, I think of mystery; I think of umbrellas of crystal Shading a cinnamon sea; "Poem", l. 1. George Garrett (ed.) The Girl in the Black Raincoat (New York: Duell, Sloan and Pearce, 1966), p. 77 And life is a rain-swept mirror Through which perpetually A girl with bright hair flowing, Dappled dark coat blowing, Into the unknown, knowing,    Walks with me. "Poem", l. 9. The Girl in the Black Raincoat (1966), p. 77 Not ringed but rare, not gilled but polyp-like,    having sprung up overnight— These mushrooms of the gods, resembling human organs    uprooted, rooted only on the air, "Morels", sts. 9–10. The Tin Can, and Other Poems (Delacorte Press, 1966), p. 3 Tasting of the sweet damp woods and of the rain one inch    above the meadow: It was like feasting upon air. "Morels", sts. 19–20. The Tin Can, &c. (1966), p. 4 External links Category:Poets from the United States Category:Columbia University alumni Category:Columbia University faculty Category:People from Louisiana Category:1918 births Category:2015 deaths Category:Formalist poets