”A moose has come out of

the impenetrable wood

and stands there, looms, rather,   

in the middle of the road.

It approaches; it sniffs at

the bus’s hot hood.

Towering, antlerless,   

high as a church,

homely as a house

(or, safe as houses).

A man’s voice assures us   

Perfectly harmless....”

— From “The Moose,’’ by celebrated poet Elizabeth Bishop (1911-1979), who was born in Worcester and died in Boston