When a friend calls to me from the road And slows his horse to a meaning walk, I don't stand still and look around On all the hills I haven't hoed, And shout from where I am, What is it? No, not as there is a time to talk. I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground, Blade-end up and five feet tall, And plod: I go up to the stone wall For a friendly visit. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WENDELL PHILLIPS by AMOS BRONSON ALCOTT THE FEMALE CONVICT by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON MEMORIAL TO D.C.: 2. PRAYER TO PERSEPHONE by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY IN MEMORY OF WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 32 by EDWARD TAYLOR FOR YOU O DEMOCRACY by WALT WHITMAN THE ASS IN THE LION'S SKIN by AESOP EPITAPH ON SUSANNAH BARBAULD MARISSAL by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |