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August 1963

The Poems of Max Ehrmann.

Arch Intern Med. 1963;112(2):300. doi:10.1001/archinte.1963.03860020198042

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Poetry and verse can exist at so many levels of excellence and so many degrees of exhilaration, clarity, confusion, or emotional discharge that it is nigh impossible to comment upon or present, to anyone not experienced, a workman-like introduction to poetry. A good many years ago, all unaware, I came upon Max Ehrmann and in so unlikely a context that it is a tale worth telling. During the latter phases of World War II, just before it was coming to a culmination with a prodigious speed no one had imagined, I found myself in the Pacific flying about from one island to another studying troops in or just out of combat to find out about their nutrition, physical fitness, and use of rations. I was doing "clinical" studies very close to actual combat. This sort of study had never been done before. Moving as we did from one area of

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