Eric Jr. now helped his sobbing mother over to the front pew and his equally grief-stricken paternal grandmother, Gwendolyn Carr.
Surely there is a key distinction between that and the strophes of John Berryman or Gwendolyn Brooks?
Gwendolyn wore an angel pin on her breast, which she explained was an actual angel and sent to her directly from God.
Nimbly the little old gentleman thrust himself in front of her, barring her way, and shielding Gwendolyn.
Gwendolyn's father had been gathering candles, and had seemed not to see what was transpiring.
"I'm seven today," Gwendolyn went on, the tips of her fingers in the small basin of silver while her face was turned to Jane.
"You don't mean a lump of salt," said Gwendolyn, astonished.
With a little gasp of relief at having him so near, Gwendolyn slipped her trembling fingers into his.
