Mr. Erskine Kennedy is not only a poet; he is also a music-lover. More specifically, he likes to sing, and whenever the Glee Club rehearses, he joins forces with the second basses. Although he does not read music--"I shouldn't be put down as a noted musician, I shouldn't think"--he can blend accurately with surrounding voices. Neither Mr. Kennedy nor Professor Woodworth recall the exact year in which he first appeared in Sever 13, but it was in the neighborhood of 1935. Since then he has missed few rehearsals, attended most of the Club's concerts, and taken upon himself the duty of assisting the librarian to distribute music.

He has also, on occasion, distributed samples of his poetry, but generally he has written out only enough copies to get through the second bass section. He signs each poem "Endis Endum," which he follows with notations of both the date of original creation and that of the particular copy. The name "Endis Endum" bears no special pertinence, has no special pertinence, has no story behind it other than that Mr. Kennedy has used it as nom-de plume since he became a poet.

Before he took up poetry in earnest--he dabbled at it in school--Mr. Kennedy was interested in education and theology. After teaching for fifteen years, he studied at a theological school in Pittsburgh, received an M.A. from Columbia Teachers College, and an Ed.M., in 1923, from the Harvard School of Education. Then he found his interest in poetry. At present, he still has a wealth of ideas, and finds time to write constantly, even when he is on the job carrying stacks of menus from the printing company which employs him to such places as the Commander, the Continental, the Faculty Club, Filene's, and South Station. The following poem, entitled "Summation," is an example of his work, most of which he has written on the backs of old Glee Club programs.

We dance. We sing.

We enjoy Spring.

We come. We go.

We plow. We hoe.

We eat. We drink.

We work. We think.

We laugh. We cry.

WE live. We die.

At first, poetry did not come easily to him, but now that he feels he has mastered the fundamental techniques of clear expression in verse, Mr. Kennedy finds writing a "genuine high-point of pleasure." Although he has always been a teetotaler, he supposes that composing poetry "serves instead of getting drunk."

Despite his sixty or more years, Mr. Kennedy is still energetic, his hair, though white, still grows thick and long, and his eyes still express elfin joy when he recalls that in the one major football game he over saw "Harvard got her hind beaten off--by Yale." Mr. Kennedy feels less objective when it comes to the Glee Club. Speaking of the value of music, and of the Glee Club, in his life, he concludes that it "Fills in something there that is worthwhile."