Last Letter from Poul Anderson.(Poem)

 
LAST LETTER FROM POUL ANDERSON 
 
   Polite, or perhaps kind, about the stuff I sent him, 
   hardly mentioning one detail: he was dying. 
   Several thoughtful pages--professional writer's professional 
   and yet punctilious about replying, 
 
   giving his time, even then, to a fan he'd never met, 
   though I hope that I may claim the title friend as well. 
   Called my father "quite a man!" from my stumbling manuscript. 
   He was quite a man himself. Something for me to tell 
 
   that I have his letters. Hard to ask for more than that. 
   I wish that I had met him, but it's not too late. 
   He liked West Australian postcards--Stiflings, Monkey Mia-- 
   but said a visit here would have to wait. 
 
   I hope we'll meet one day in the Old Phoenix * 
   with certain other parties who'll be there. 
   Bound for the High Crusade, bound for some marvel 
   close to the Earth, or high and rich and rare. 
 
   Perhaps we'll see Shark Bay together then, 
   dive with the dugongs, explore stromatolites. 
   Perhaps we'll meet the mermaids or the Kzin, 
   brave Midsummer Tempests, taste delights 
 
   of Makeshift Rocketry, or find sunken Lyonesse, 
   voyage with the Maurai on a shining sea, 
   sail with the Vikings or the Solar Guard, 
   to Trojan asteroids, or to Yugdrasil Tree. 
 
   I see him for a moment in Old Phoenix's courtyard now ...