They could not have imagined this when they came down in the mornings, Guiding their swaying loads, Each from his sunlit cove, with golden corn for the grinding, Sure on the winter roads. "Cream or lemon?" -- "trimmed with lace." "Isn't this the sweetest place?' "Gorgeous music!" "But my dear! Would you think she would be here?" Never could they have imagined, awkward dark men from the mountain, Heavy feet on the sill, Laughter that tinkles, whispers and perfume and dancing, After the wheel was still. "Cream or lemon?" -- "Jade is good." "Harry never understood." "You'll recover." -- "say she pets?" "Angel, try my cigarettes." Gray pile of puncheon floor, of hand-hewn rafter and shingle, Are you weary of tinselled grace? Do you long for the thundering wheel again, the tumult of feet and the shouting, The cool swift cut of the race? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SUMMER STORM by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE VAGABONDS by JOHN TOWNSEND TROWBRIDGE JANUARY MORNING by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE HIRED MAN by EVA K. ANGLESBURG DIRGE FOR A YOUNG MAIDEN by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES PSALM 83 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |