When I was told he had been learning To be a carpenter, I said, 'Perchance he learned his craft by turning His eyes, to turn a fellow's head!' Unhappy boughs! They'll soon be rueing He chose to chop them, this fine spring, For some are singled out for hewing, And some are marked for hammering. Converted to a wooden block! It's A just reward for roguery And ever plucking at his pockets When they were branches on a tree. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ILLUSIONS by ROBERT UNDERWOOD JOHNSON PROUD MAISIE, FR. THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN by WALTER SCOTT THE MAGI by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS TO MYRTILLA OF NEW YORK by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS BLEAKE'S HOUSE IN BLACKMWORE by WILLIAM BARNES A SUMMER DAY by HENRY CHARLES BEECHING DEATH OF CHILDHOOD BELIEFS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |