THIRTY-TWO Greeks are dipping their feet in a creek. Sloshing their bare feet in a cool flow of clear water. All one midsummer day ten hours the Greeks stand in leather shoes shoveling gravel. Now they hold their toes and ankles to the drift of running water. Then they go to the bunk cars and eat mulligan and prune sauce, Smoke one or two pipefuls, look at the stars, tell smutty stories About men and women they have known, countries they have seen, Railroads they have built -- and then the deep sleep of children. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOW'S MY BOY? by SYDNEY THOMPSON DOBELL THE BOOK OF THE LETTER, SELECTION by ABRAHAM ABULAFIA EPITAPH ON MR. VAUX, THE PHYSICIAN by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) NATIONALITY IN DRINKS by ROBERT BROWNING ITALY by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT WOOD WITCHERY by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON |