Several times last week I walked within a few feet of Anthony Hecht. It's no surprise that he looks frail, but, when he speaks, he's a lion. I think I will regret that I never spoke to him — I told myself I would be intruding.
So I'm grateful to Jonathan Mayhew for pointing out that the current Formalist has webbed Richard Wilbur's lively and moving tribute to his old friend, "An Eightieth-Birthday Ballade for Anthony Hecht." Jonathan, I'm truly sorry that you cannot appreciate what Wilbur has made.
The rest of you, while you're at The Formalist, be sure to read Catherine Tufariello's "Chemist's Daughter."
8:15:35 PM
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