THERE'S something more to "haying time" Than jest machinery's rattling rhyme; Than Hoorah Boys and Men and Teams! Than sagging sheds and hot highbeams; Than scratching rake and crawling cart And snakes bisected through the heart— What is it? There's something more than calloused hands And stiff old neck and pouring glands; Than grinding scythes while yet it's night And doing chores by Dog Star light; Than being forced at last to hire A lame man and the village liar— What is it? There's something more than blistered skin And bed too tired to wiggle in; Than dodging through the appletrees To shake a squad of bumblebees; Than carting in your crop so wet You know the "middle bent" will sweat— What is it? There's more than cussing mice and moles And getting mad at woodchuck holes; Than having half your load slide off In sight of folks a-playing golf; Than chasing wandering Pats and Petes That turn your haycaps into sheets— What is it? There's more than "pitching on" so swift Your pipe goes out each time you lift; Than "picking out" the Pratt lot swale And curing timothy with hail; Than trips to Hastings' blacksmith shop To make that pounding pitman stop— What is it? They say there's nothing folks will shirk A-quicker than a hard day's work, And yet, there's nothing anywhere That cures more ills or kills more care; No, Sir: there's nothing 'neath the sun Compared with red-hot work well done— Is that it? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAROL: NEW STYLE by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET RHYME FOR A CHILD VIEWING A NAKED VENUS IN A PAINTING by ROBERT BROWNING RAIN-SONGS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR AT APRIL by ANGELINA WELD GRIMKE SLEEP AT SEA by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE SORROW OF LOVE (1) by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |