American, from German pioneers, his Dad
Taught him to love the outdoors and the streams.
His Mom gave art and culture to the lad,
Yet ’twas in Europe where the young man fished for dreams.

He “lived and loved and loafed and worked for years”,
Living precariously, perfecting his hand,
Filling himself with life despite his cares,
Returning at last to study his native land.

Nature and human nature were his fields;
Nature, to love; humans, to satirize.
Under his hand the stubborn limestone yields
Dark and surprising prints for our surmise.

His mastery of mood led to this epitaph:
Zigrosser called him “Debussy of the lithograph”.

Copyright (2006) by Arnold Cantor.
All rights reserved.

[Written Jan 23, 2003, minor changes 2003, 2006.]