This is my favorite poem by Hart Crane. When I was in my 20s, reading it could make me cry; it does remain vivid, and sentimental, but in all the right ways. It's about the aftermath of a hurricane in Cuba written in relaxed iambs with lines of different lengths and stanzas with different numbers of lines, an honest poem taking on its own form to be told. Crane experienced the storm, but the man telling the story seems older; perhaps it is Tennessee Williams giving life to a character, an old codger and his wife Sarah; yes, it's because of the playwright's reading that the narrator seems old to me, but I like the way Williams reads; it is real and I believe every word. Sarah, by the way, was not the poet's wife; she was the housekeeper of the old rundown house the Crane family owned in Cuba.
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