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| Jack Youngerman Red White 1958 oil on canvas Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Jack Youngerman Coenties Slip (Coenties Slip is a street in lower Manhattan) 1959 oil on linen Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Jack Youngerman July 26 1961 oil on canvas Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
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| Jack Youngerman Untitled 1963 ink on paper Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Jack Youngerman Untitled 1964 ink on paper Guggenheim Museum, New York |
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| Jack Youngerman Delfina II 1964 acrylic on canvas Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Jack Youngerman Long March II 1964 oil on canvas Guggenheim Museum, New York |
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| Jack Youngerman Study for February 1965 watercolor on paper Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Jack Youngerman Blue White Red 1965 acrylic on canvas Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Jack Youngerman Ultramarine Diamond 1967 acrylic on canvas Phillips Collection, Washington DC |
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| Jack Youngerman Green Around 1968 lithograph Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
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| Jack Youngerman Blue April Yellow 1970 acrylic on canvas Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Jack Youngerman Untitled 1970 acrylic and gouache on paper Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
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| Jack Youngerman Changes #4 before 1977 screenprint Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
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| Jack Youngerman Changes #5 before 1977 screenprint Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
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| Jack Youngerman Changes #8 before 1977 screenprint Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC |
Lament
A terrible thing is happening – my love
is dying again, my love who has died already:
is dying again, my love who has died already:
died and been mourned. And music continues,
music of separation: the trees
become instruments.
How cruel the earth, the willows shimmering,
the birches bending and sighing.
How cruel, how profoundly tender.
My love is dying: my love
not only a person, but an idea, a life.
not only a person, but an idea, a life.
What will I live for?
Where will I find him again
if not in grief, dark wood
from which the lute is made.
Once is enough. Once is enough
to say goodbye on earth.
And to grieve, that too, of course.
Once is enough to say goodbye forever.
The willows shimmer by the stone fountain,
paths of flowers abutting.
Once is enough: why is he living again?
And so briefly, and only in a dream.
My love is dying: parting has started again.
And through the veils of the willows
sunlight rising and glowing,
not the light we knew.
And the birds singing again, even the mourning dove.
Ah, I have sung this song. By the stone fountain
the willows are singing again
with unspeakable tenderness, trailing their leaves
in the radiant water.
Clearly they know, they know. He is dying again,
and the world also. Dying the rest of my life,
so I believe.
– Louise Glück (1999)