I was about to discontinue my subscription to Poetry, then I read A.F. Moritz’s “What Man Has Made of Man” and was jolted into recognizing that—like The Lonely Man of Faith by Joseph B. Soloveitchik, or the talks by Cornel West—this piece will remain with me for the rest of my life. Why? Because it fulfills what Horace two thousand years ago said literature should be: dulce et utile (sweet and useful). Not something that happens every day. Thank you.