JACK was a swarthy, swaggering son-of-a-gun. He worked thirty years on the railroad, ten hours a day, and his hands were tougher than sole leather. He married a tough woman and they had eight children and the woman died and the children grew up and went away and wrote the old man every two years. He died in the poorhouse sitting on a bench in the sun telling reminiscences to other old men whose women were dead and children scattered. There was joy on his face when he died as there was joy on his face when he lived -- he was a swarthy, swaggering son-of-a-gun. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ALTAR by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON QUATORZAINS: 5. TO NIGHT by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES HALLOWED GROUND by THOMAS CAMPBELL SONNETS ATTEMPTED IN THE MANNER OF CONTEMPORARY WRITERS: 3 by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE HER MERRIMENT by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES |