Theodore Roosevelt: Described by a Poet

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      ... He's drest in canvas khaki, flannel shirt.
      Laced boots for farming, chopping trees, perhaps;
      A stocky frame, curtains of skin on cheeks
      Drained slightly of their fat; gash on the neck
      Where pus was emptied lately; one eye dim
      And growing dimmer; almost blind in that.
      And when he walks he rolls a little like
      A man whose youth is fading, like a cart
      That rolls when springs are old.  He is a moose,
      Scarred, battered from the hunters, thickets, stones;
      Some finest tips of antlers broken off.
      And eyes where images of ancient things
      Flit back and forth across them keeping still
      A certain slumberous indifference
      Or wisdom, it may be...