Poem of the Day: ‘The Bone Ring’ by Donald Hall
Editor’s Note: This article previously appeared in a different format as part of The Atlantic’s Notes section, retired in 2021.
In his spare and lovely poem “The Bone Ring,” from our October 2010 issue, Donald Hall contemplates memory and inheritance in the ever-present shadow of war. Here are the first few lines:
The summer when I saw the Trylon and Perisphere,
I sat on the farm porch with my Great-Uncle Luther
who told me that when he was nine he watched
the soldier boys walking back home from Virginia.
See the full poem here, and go here to read more of Hall’s work for The Atlantic.