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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
ROBERT FROST RELATES THE DEATH OF THE TIRED MAN, by LOUIS UNTERMEYER Poem Explanation Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: There were two of us left in the berry patch Last Line: "he never knew 'em. He was just tired,"" he said." Alternate Author Name(s): Lewis, Michael Subject(s): Frost, Robert (1874-1963); Poetry & Poets | |||
THERE were two of us left in the berry-patch; Bryan O'Lin and Jack had gone to Norwich. -- They called him Jack a' Nory, half in fun And half because it seemed to anger him. -- So there we stood and let the berries go, Talking of men we knew and had forgotten. A sprawling, humpbacked mountain frowned on us And blotted out a smouldering sunset cloud That broke in fiery ashes. "Well," he said, "Old Adam Brown is dead and gone; you'll never See him any more. He used to wear A long, brown coat that buttoned down before. That's all I ever knew of him; I guess that's all That anyone remembers. Eh?" he said, And then, without a pause to let me answer, He went right on. "How about Dr. Foster?" "Well, how about him?" I managed to reply. He glared at me for having interrupted. And stopped to pick his words before he spoke; Like one who turns all personal remarks Into a general survey of the world. Choosing his phrases with a finicky care So they might fit some vague opinions, Taken, third-hand, from last year's New York Times And jumbled all together into a thing He thought was his philosophy. "Never mind; There's more in Foster than you'd understand. But," he continued, darkly as before, "What do you make of Solomon Grundy's case? You know the gossip when he first came here. Folks said he'd gone to smash in Lunenburg, And four years in the State Asylum here Had almost finished him. It was Sanders' job That put new life in him. A clear, cool day; The second Monday in July it was. 'Born on a Monday,' that is what they said. Remember the next few days? I guess you don't; That was before your time. Well, Tuesday night He said he'd go to church; and just before the prayer He blurts right out, 'I've come here to get christened. If I am going to have a brand new life I'll have a new name, too.' Well, sure enough They christened him, though I've forgotten what; And Etta Stark, (you know, the pastor's girl) Her head upset by what she called romance, She went and married him on Wednesday noon. Thursday the sun or something in the air Got in his blood and right off he took sick. Friday the thing got worse, and so did he; And Saturday at four o'clock he died. Buried on Sunday with the town decked out As if it was a circus-day. And not a soul Knew why they went or what he meant to them Or what he died of. What would be your guess?" "Well," I replied, "it seems to me that he, Just coming from a sedentary life, Felt a great wave of energy released, And tried to crowd too much in one short week. The laws of physics teach --" "No, not at all. He never knew 'em. He was just tired," he said. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ENVY OF OTHER PEOPLE'S POEMS by ROBERT HASS THE NINETEENTH CENTURY AS A SONG by ROBERT HASS THE FATALIST: TIME IS FILLED by LYN HEJINIAN OXOTA: A SHORT RUSSIAN NOVEL: CHAPTER 192 by LYN HEJINIAN LET ME TELL YOU WHAT A POEM BRINGS by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA JUNE JOURNALS 6/25/88 by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA FOLLOW ROZEWICZ by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA HAVING INTENDED TO MERELY PICK ON AN OIL COMPANY, THE POEM GOES AWRY by HICOK. BOB A BIRTHDAY by LOUIS UNTERMEYER A VOICE FROM THE SWEAT-SHOPS (A HYMN WITH RESPONSES) by LOUIS UNTERMEYER |
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