An old man

On a boat

Fishing

He's caught none in his day

But he is not a fisherman

Bring America simplicity

Strip the pomp

From our prose

You've done that, Hemingway

And like a soldier

Returning to camp

You feel your mission

Is complete

You can see little else to live for

Poor man

Lost his first fiancée

Scarred by war

The 'Lost Generation'

He called those like him

And indeed he was lost

As lost as the old man

Losing purpose

And so did you

Ernest Hemingway

Pruner of

The shrub of

American Language