Elbows on the Sky
If man might lean his elbows on the sky
As farmers lean their weight upon a wall
To look upon their ample fields that lie
Heavy with harvest in the yellow Fall
Then he might dicker with close-fisted fate,
Himself decide what to reject or keep
Before he comes at length beyond the gate
Where he may choose not anything but sleep.
Yet if he leaned but once upon a star
And saw his earth, and himself a fugitive,
As long as breath could keep life's door ajar
He would be happy but to breathe and live,
With little care for what he shall be when
Of death's gray waste he is a citizen.
From Ballad of the Bones and Other Poems 1945
Boy and Deer
Over the white, the frozen ground
With cautious step the deer came down.
The boy who had come to be
Alone with cloud and rock and tree
Suddenly saw the deer and hid
To see what that proud creature did.
But the sharp snapping of a limb
Made the proud deer aware of him
Kindred two, each watcher stood
With perfect stillness in the wood,
Each seeing each with mild surprise,
And each with wonder in his eyes.
Byron Herbert Reece lived a lonely life.
Born in 1917 to farmers in Union County, he was raised just north of Vogel State Park, learning about nature and the seasons as much as he learned reading and writing.
And while nature — and a life of farming — occupied much of his time, it was the reading and writing that kept him going. After taking two years of classes at Young
Harris College, Reece's poetry eventually caught on among the literary set in the early 1940s, and his first volume of poetry was published.
And as the beat writers of San Francisco started blazing their own style of writing and verse, Reece was separately creating his own style, too — all influenced by his life in the North Georgia mountains.
"He wrote about what he knew, which are things near to him," said John Kay, chairman of the Byron Herbert Reece Society and former professor at Young Harris College. "Nature was a major theme — everything about the natural world. Love was a major theme, interesting for a man who never married but who wrote a lot about true love, what that would be."
Reece was also fascinated by death, a topic he wrote about constantly toward the end of his life, after contracting tuberculosis. He took his own life in 1958, shooting himself in his diseased lung in the same apartment where his mentor at Young Harris College killed himself.
Reece was just 40 when he died, and at that point had four volumes of poetry and two novels published, had won two Guggenheim awards, been nominated for a Pulitzer Prize and served as a poet-in-residence at the University of California-Los Angeles, Emory University and Young Harris College.
When former Atlanta Constitution editor Ralph McGill discovered Reece's writings, he called him "one of the really great poets of our time, and to stand with those of any other time."
A dream realized
On Wednesday, officials with the Byron Herbert Reece Society and Union County, along with representatives from Vogel State Park, local and state tourism boards and longtime volunteers, celebrated the official groundbreaking of the Byron Herbert Reece Farm and Heritage Center, located about a mile north of Vogel State Park on U.S. 129.
Years in the making, plans for the center call for a renovated home, which Reece originally built for his parents, along with a barn showing Appalachian-style crafts and a "poetry plaza," a space highlighting Reece's work in relation to the four seasons.
Volunteer Fleming Weaver said the farm will not only educate future generations about a man whose genius was ended too soon, but also about the Appalachian farming ways he practiced. Weaver is a former president of the Chattahoochee-Oconee Forest Interpretive Association, which helped secure the land from its original donor, James Mathis Sr.
"We plan to have quite a few field trips from the school system and learn about Appalachian lifestyle and also learn about Byron Herbert Reece, so it's a two-pronged attack," said Weaver, who has been instrumental in keeping the project moving forward for the past few years.
"We want to focus on tourism, but at the same time it's educational tourism," he said. "People both in Dahlonega and Helen have assured us the bus tours, and also the people who stop by with their families who want to visit various aspects of the area and are interested in history.
"And this will provide an excellent referral venue for them, to visit our location."
The farm is important in preserving Reece's legacy, Weaver added, because it was such an integral part of his life.
That said, Reece thoroughly hated it.
"He always hated the fact that he wasn't able to make enough money so he could write instead of having to farm," said Weaver, adding that Reece farmed because he had to - it wasn't cash crops he grew, but subsistence farming. "He was always having to interrupt his writing."
He farmed during the day to feed his family, and at night he would write.
"Or, he would get an idea during the day when he was plowing or planting and he would scribble a note so when he did have time to compose, he could take those thoughts and turn them into works of art."
A lasting memory
Rachael Reece, whose husband was the nephew of Reece, said his siblings would be proud to see the plans for the farm.
"I think the whole family was very literary, his sisters in particular," she said. "They really did appreciate his writings, and they were teachers also.
"I think they have a great appreciation for it, and I think they'll be very proud to see this happen."
Gainesville architect Garland Reynolds, who developed the site plans for the Reece farm, said he's been enamored by Reece's poetry for longer than he can remember.
"My brother went to Young Harris College; I think he's the one who told me about him. Just a tragic life," said Reynolds, noting that at one point Reece was sent to a tuberculosis sanitarium in Rome, but he hated it so much he walked home.
"He suffered so much."
It was that disease that would eventually cause Reece to end his life. Where once he wrote about nature and growing up in the mountains, soon his writing grew dark, focusing on the inevitable end.
"Reece was a very lonely person — I think that's something you could emphasize," Kay said. "And his loneliness was something you could trace to his intelligence. He was, intellectually, several notches above everyone else. ... And that set him apart, so there were only certain people with whom he could find true companionship, that is, who were near enough at his level not only of intellect but of interest."
And while his poems and novels never found a true publicist — and therefore, never found the wide audience many say they deserve — the writings live on today.
"He was definitely in love with the land ... It was all about the world outside," Kay said. "But his place was right there. He was wedded to the mountains and to his community there."