The Orange bears with soft friendly eyes

    Who played with me when I was ten，

    Christ， before I'd left home they'd had

    Their paws smashed in the rolls， their backs

    Seared by hot slag¹， their soft trusting

    Bellies² kicked in， their tongues ripped

    Out， and I went down through the woods

    To the smelly crick with Whitman

    In the Haldeman-Julius edition，

    And I just sat there worrying my thumbnail

    Into the cover——What did he know about

    Orange bears with their coats all stunk³ up with soft coal

    And the National Guard coming over

    From Wheeling to stand in front of the millgates

    With drawn⁴ bayonets jeering⁵ at the strikers？

    I remember you would put daisies

    On the windowsill at night and in

    The morning they'd be so covered with soot⁶

    You couldn't tell what they were anymore.

    A hell of a fat chance my orange bears had！