A quiet, quitting hollow,
And then again he raised his eyes
And beckoned me to follow . . .
This road until a day
I hastened and I passed him . . .
I did not nod or say
A word to him, and somehow—
Though strange it seem to be—
Oh, once I followed, followed him,
But now he follows me . . .
24
LAURENCE PRATT
Laurence Pratt, the third from the last of 12 children, was born in Kansas. Coming west, he has worked at many occupations—as a paper boy, elevator boy, trucker, laundryman, groceryman, gas meter reader, printer, department store and office clerk, music teacher, orchestra man, high school teacher and college professor. He was graduated from Reed College in 1918 and received his master's degree at the University of Washington in 1927. For a year after leaving Reed College he was principal of the Camas High School in Washington and for the next four years was a clerk in the purchasing department in the Crown Willamette Paper Company at Camas—where he secured the background for his book of poems, A Saga of a Paper Mill, 1935. From 1923 to 1928 he was professor of English in Pacific University and since 1929 has been teacher of English in Jefferson High School in Portland. For two years he was president of the Northwest Poetry Society and for a year was associate editor of Muse and Mirror, a poetry magazine published in Seattle. His poetry has appeared in 25 magazines and newspapers and in eight anthologies.
Head Logger
From A Saga of a Paper Mill, 1935
when I was mixin’ it with heavyweights
and mashin' mugs. I drew some handsome gates
