From “Tree At My Window” by Robert Frost:
“Tree at my window, window tree,
My sash is lowered when night comes on;
But let there never be curtain drawn
Between you and me.”
And “Trees” by Joyce Kilmer (He was born in New Brunswick 1886.)
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth’s flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
From the Three Penny Opera: “The Ballad of Mack the Knife.”
I was a freshman biology major at Fairleigh Dickinson University. My English class had about 30 students and half were dental hygienists. I didn’t mind! The class was held in a former 1 room school house.
But it was amazing. Our professor was Charles Angoff who edited The American Mercury magazine with HL Menckin.
He decided that to pass you had to go to a live theater performance. One of the choices was The Three Penny Opera in the Village. I went with my English major girlfriend, and it was a revelation for us both. Prof Angoff was so right. I still think of it.
Who’s to say how to educate? A classmate and I visited the professor at his NY apartment, and his wife made us tea. We rode the subway back to the Port Authority.