In the haze of afternoon,
while the air flowed saffron,
I played my game for keeps—
for love, for poetry,
and for eternal life—
after the trials of summer.
—From “The Testing-Tree”

From the Post obituary:

In later years, [Kunitz] voiced contempt for the Vietnam War, U.S. support for right-leaning juntas in Central America and the U.S.-led war against Iraq. “The poet can’t change anything,’ he said, “but the poet can demonstrate the power of the solitary conscience.”
…
Mr. Kunitz was regarded as a mentor to many poets, including two future poet laureates, Louise Gluck and Robert Hass, as well as Sylvia Plath.
“Essentially,” he once said, “what I try to do is to help each person rediscover the poet within himself. I say ‘rediscover,’ because I am convinced that it is a universal human attribute to want to play with words, to beat out rhythms, to fashion images, to tell a story, to construct forms.”
He added: “The key is always in his possession: what prevents him from using it is mainly inertia, the stultification of the senses as a result of our one-sided educational conditioning and the fear of being made ridiculous or ashamed by the exposure of his feelings.”

R.I.P.