poem by Michael Cover
hold this sadness near your heart
for it is all you have,
as a violet, crushed, run with dew
(I mean the violet, and the word,
for the word signifies the thing,
calls forth, summons, has power over the object;
as Lazarus was called, freshly dead),
to teach you joy.
Cover ’04 is a Classics graduate from Currier House.