I INHERITED forty acres from my Father And, by working my wife, my two sons and two daughters From dawn to dusk, I acquired A thousand acres. But not content, Wishing to own two thousand acres, I bustled through the years with axe and plow, Toiling, denying myself, my wife, my sons, my daughters. Squire Higbee wrongs me to say That I died from smoking Red Eagle cigars. Eating hot pie and gulping coffee During the scorching hours of harvest time Brought me here ere I had reached my sixtieth year. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ERL-KING by JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE THE NEW INN: A VISION OF BEAUTY by BEN JONSON A BIT OF MULL by FREDERICK HENRY HERBERT ADLER PICTURES OF MOTHER by STELLA PFEIFFER BAISCH IN MEMORY OF MY DEAR GRANDCHILD ELIZABETH .. WHO DECEASED 1665 by ANNE BRADSTREET TO A GENTLEMAN WHO SENT HIM A NEWSPAPER by ROBERT BURNS |