The rocking, ringing steel sings to and fro, A steady buzz, a whang and rasp and hiss; The sawdust spurts and makes twin piles below; Green wood is tough. The art is chiefly this: Don't bear too hard, but leave it to the saw, (Sam holds the other end, and knows the knack); Pull firmly, but still lightly, on the draw, But do not push. Your partner takes it back. Then, when your rhythm's easy, going well, And back-arm muscles twinge a bit, mayhap, Swayed in a kind of dogged swoon, you'll smell That lusty savor of hot sun on sap. "Well, Sam, your saw, she swings a wicked tooth." . . . The trunk is through. Sam grins. "You said the truth!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONCERNING NECESSITY by HAYDEN CARRUTH SACRIFICE by RALPH WALDO EMERSON A FAREWELL TO FOLLY: CONTENT by ROBERT GREENE FIRST OR LAST (SONG) by THOMAS HARDY HEAVEN-HAVEN; A NUN TAKES THE VEIL by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS AT HOME by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI MY LIFE by HENRY DAVID THOREAU |