Classic and Contemporary Poetry
OLD VERMONT ROADS, by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY Poet's Biography First Line: The old-time roads, they used to run Last Line: Them roads the fathers used to travel. Subject(s): Mountains; Roads; Travel; Vermont; Hills; Downs (great Britain); Paths; Trails; Journeys; Trips | ||||||||
THE old-time roads, they used to run Right over all the hills and rises, And made the shortest kind of cut To get to Benning Wentworth's prizes; They wasn't tipped with tepid tar, They might have made a shofer cavil, But they was all the kind of roads Our settler fathers had to travel. They run them roads from town to town About the way they shot a rifle; A river didn't change their course, A mountain made 'em bend a trifle; Oh! yes; they jest was "water-bound" No grease or graft or even gravel, But still they averaged 'bout as good As what we modern "dusties" travel. The fathers didn't walk abroad Arrayed in pumps and Paris slippers; They took no hikes along the pikes, They never posed as "Sunday trippers;" They didn't wash their socks with lux, Or rense 'em out in eau de javel, And where they went they had to go That's why the fathers used to travel. It's 'bout the same with us to-day; You don't back out your panting flivver To take a pleasure ridenot much And get an embolismic liver; You know jest how a shell-hole looks, You've seen all sorts of "surface" ravel, You know that when you near a bridge You'll see it billed, "Unsafe for Travel." And when a highway hit a grant In them old days, it didn't schism, But plowed right through to Center Town, Like highbrows chasing up an ism; And there they built a hard-shell church, But didn't fool with soft-shell gravel The road the circuit-rider used Was good enough for all to travel. The teams from Albany got through, The stages seldom missed in Summer, The sacred cod was right on hand But not as yet the Boston drummer; He didn't come until he heard The rap of Trade's compelling gavel, And all the road he counted on Was one a traveling man could travel. It's great to trace them roadways now Through worn-out field and back-lot mowing; The suller holes and lilac trees Still show where life was once a-flowing; They're smoother now than lots of "pikes," A-dumdummed up with soft-nose gravel I often wish we had 'em back, Them roads the fathers used to travel. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RICHARD, WHAT'S THAT NOISE? by RICHARD HOWARD LOOKING FOR THE GULF MOTEL by RICHARD BLANCO RIVERS INTO SEAS by LYNDA HULL DESTINATIONS by JOSEPHINE JACOBSEN THE ONE WHO WAS DIFFERENT by RANDALL JARRELL THE CONFESSION OF ST. JIM-RALPH by DENIS JOHNSON SESTINA: TRAVEL NOTES by WELDON KEES TO H. B. (WITH A BOOK OF VERSE) by MAURICE BARING A VERMONT 'DONATION' by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY |
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