St. Louis has always had a love-hate relationship with the Mississippi River. The city depends on the river for its very existence. Yet we cursed the river for giving us too little water last fall and we now curse it for giving us too much. As is the case with so many of life’s mysteries, we need to look to poetry for insights into our complicated relationship with our river.
Seventy years ago, St. Louis native T. S. Eliot wrote The Dry Salvages, which opens with the lines:
I do not know much about gods; but I think that the river