Here’s another hard right turn. Think
Of how Walt Whitman loved this country,
Loved the President who died. Imagined
Himself as a hand brushing a fly from the brow
Of a sleeping child. In the dark
I thought of a radiant ordinariness
That burned, that burned and burned.
2 thoughts on “From “A Sunset” by Robert Hass (1941-)”
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“radiant ordinariness” is a beautiful phrase ugh
We often view Whitman as such a strong, masculine powerhouse. The delicacy with which he’s described here – “brushing a fly from the brow of a sleeping child” – is lovely. Let Whitman Be Soft 2026