Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE OLD PENNSYLVANIA FARMER, by BAYARD TAYLOR


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE OLD PENNSYLVANIA FARMER, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Well - well! This is a comfort, now - the air is mild as may
Last Line: There can't be rivers there and fields, without some sort o' farm!
Alternate Author Name(s): Taylor, James Bayard
Subject(s): Farm Life; Pennsylvania; Spring; Agriculture; Farmers


I.

WELL -- well! this is a comfort, now -- the air is mild as May,
And yet 't is March the twentieth, or twenty-first, to-day:
And Reuben ploughs the hill for corn; I thought it would be tough,
But now I see the furrows turned, I guess it's dry enough.

II.

I don't half live, penned up in doors; a stove's not like the sun.
When I can't see how things go on, I fear they're badly done:
I might have farmed till now, I think -- one's family is so queer --
As if a man can't oversee who's in his eightieth year!

III.

Father, I mind, was eighty-five before he gave up his;
But he was dim o' sight, and crippled with the rheumatiz.
I followed in the old, steady way, so he was satisfied;
But Reuben likes new-fangled things and ways I can't abide.

IV.

I'm glad I built this southern porch; my chair seems easier here:
I have n't seen as fine a spring this five-and-twenty year!
And how the time goes round so quick! -- a week, I would have sworn,
Since they were husking on the flat, and now they plough for corn!

V.

When I was young, time had for me a lazy ox's pace,
But now it's like a blooded horse, that means to win the race.
And yet I can't fill out my days, I tire myself with naught;
I'd rather use my legs and hands than plague my head with thought.

VI.

There's Marshall, too, I see from here: he and his boys begin.
Why don't they take the lower field? that one is poor and thin.
A coat of lime it ought to have, but they're a doless set:
They think swamp-mud's as good, but we shall see what corn they get!

VII.

Across the level, Brown's new place begins to make a show;
I thought he'd have to wait for trees, but, bless me, how they grow!
They say it's fine -- two acres filled with evergreens and things;
But so much land! it worries me, for not a cent it brings.

VIII.

He has the right, I don't deny, to please himself that way,
But't is a bad example set, and leads young folks astray:
Book-learning gets the upper-hand and work is slow and slack,
And they that come long after us will find things gone to wrack.

IX.

Now Reuben's on the hither side, his team comes back again;
I know how deep he sets the share, I see the horses strain:
I had that field so clean of stones, but he must plough so deep,
He'll have it like a turnpike soon, and scarcely fit for sheep.

X.

If father lived, I'd like to know what he would say to these
New notions of the younger men, who farm by chemistries:
There's different stock and other grass; there's patent plough and cart --
Five hundred dollars for a bull! it would have broke his heart.

XI.

The maples must be putting out: I see a something red
Down yonder where the clearing laps across the meadow's head.
Swamp-cabbage grows beside the run; the green is good to see,
But wheat's the color, after all, that cheers and 'livens me.

XII.

They think I have an easy time, no need to worry now --
Sit in the porch all day and watch them mow, and sow, and plough;
Sleep in the summer in the shade, in winter in the sun --
I'd rather do the thing myself, and know just how it's done!

XIII.

Well -- I suppose I'm old, and yet 't is not so long ago
When Reuben spread the swath to dry, and Jesse learned to mow,
And William raked, and Israel hoed, and Joseph pitched with me:
But such a man as I was then my boys will never be!

XIV.

I don't mind William's hankering for lectures and for books;
He never had a farming knack -- you'd see it in his looks;
But handsome is that handsome does, and he is well to do:
'T would ease my mind if I could say the same of Jesse, too.

XV.

There's one black sheep in every flock, so there must be in mine,
But I was wrong that second time his bond to undersign:
It's less than what his share will be -- but there's the interest!
In ten years more I might have had two thousand to invest.

XVI.

There's no use thinking of it now, and yet it makes me sore;
The way I've slaved and saved, I ought to count a little more.
I never lost a foot of land, and that's a comfort, sure,
And if they do not call me rich, they cannot call me poor.

XVII.

Well, well! ten thousand times I've thought the things I'm thinking now;
I've thought them in the harvest-field and in the clover-mow;
And often I get tired of them, and wish I'd something new --
But this is all I've had and known; so what's a man to do?

XVIII.

'T is like my time is nearly out, of that I'm not afraid;
I never cheated any man, and all my debts are paid.
They call it rest that we shall have, but work would do no harm;
There can't be rivers there and fields, without some sort o' farm!





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