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ROBERT PINSKY: The recent dips and slides in the stock
market remind us all, even if we're not
affected directly, how scary money and
our need for it can be. You might not
think of the words "stock exchange" as
likely to show up in a poem, but here
they are in a good one, Robert Frost's
"Provide, Provide."
Provide, Provide
The witch that came (the withered hag)
To wash the steps with pail and rag
Was once the beauty Abishag.
The picture pride of Hollywood.
Too many fall from great and good
For you to doubt the likelihood.
Die early and avoid the fate.
Or if predestined to die late,
Make up your mind to die in state.
Make the whole stock exchange your own!
If need be occupy a throne,
Where nobody can call you crone.
Some have relied on what they knew,
Others on simply being true.
What worked for them might work for you.
No memory of having starred
Atones for later disregard
Or keeps the end from being hard.
Better to go down dignified
With boughten friendship at your side
Than none at all. Provide, provide! |
