Classic and Contemporary Poetry
WAITING FOR SOMETHING TO TURN UP, by ALICE CARY Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: And why do you throw down your hoe by the way Last Line: "and take up your hoe, and move on!" Subject(s): Indolence; Farm Life; Work | ||||||||
"AND why do you throw down your hoe by the way As if that furrow were done?" It was the good farmer, Bartholomew Grey, That spoke on this wise to his son. Now Barty, the younger, was not very bad, But he did n't take kindly to work, And the father had oftentimes said of the lad That the thing he did best was to shirk! It was early in May, and a beautiful morn -- The rosebuds tipt softly with red -- The pea putting on her white bloom, and the corn Being just gotten up out of bed. And after the first little break of the day Had broadened itself on the blue, The provident farmer, Bartholomew Grey, Had driven afield through the dew. His brown mare, Fair Fanny, in collar and harness Went before him, so sturdy and stout, And ere the sun's fire yet had kindled to flames, They had furrowed the field twice about. And still as they came to the southerly slope He reined in Fair Fanny, with Whoa! And gazed toward the homestead, and gazed, in the hope Of seeing young Barty -- but no! "Asleep yet?" he said -- "in a minute the horn That shall call to the breakfast, will sound, And all these long rows of the tender young corn Left choking, and ploughed in the ground!" Now this was the work, which the farmer had planned For Barty -- a task kindly meant, To follow the plough, with the hoe in his hand, And to set up the stalks as he went. But not till the minutes to hours had run, And the heat was aglow far and wide, Did he see his slow-footed and sleepy-eyed son A-dragging his hoe by his side. Midway of the corn field he stopped, gaped around; "What use is there working?" says he, And saying so, threw himself flat on the ground In the shade of a wide-spreading tree. And this was the time that Bartholomew Grey, Fearing bad things might come to the worst, Drew rein on Fair Fanny, the sweat wiped away, And spoke as we quoted at first. He had thought to have given the lad such a start As would bring him at once to his feet, And he stood in the furrow, amazed, as young Bart, Lying lazy, and smiling so sweet, Replied -- "The world owes me a living, you see, And something, or sooner or late, I'm certain as can be, will turn up for me, And I am contented to wait!" "My son," says the farmer, "take this to your heart, For to live in the world is to learn, The good things that turn up are for the most part The things we ourselves help to turn! "So boy, if you want to be sure of your bread Ere the good time of working is gone, Brush the cobwebs of nonsense all out of your head, And take up your hoe, and move on!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AFTER WORKING SIXTY HOURS AGAIN FOR WHAT REASON by HICOK. BOB DAY JOB AND NIGHT JOB by ANDREW HUDGINS BIXBY'S LANDING by ROBINSON JEFFERS ON BUILDING WITH STONE by ROBINSON JEFFERS LINES FROM A PLUTOCRATIC POETASTER TO A DITCH-DIGGER by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS IN CALIFORNIA: MORNING, EVENING, LATE JANUARY by DENISE LEVERTOV A SPINSTER'S STINT by ALICE CARY |
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