Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, JOE, by LEWIS W. BRITTON



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JOE, by            
First Line: A keerless, lanky sort was joe
Last Line: "don't understand ""that wuthless scamp!"
Subject(s): Solitude; Loneliness


A KEERLESS, lanky sort was Joe,
An' kind o' lonesome like, you know;
He didn't seem to want a home,
Jes' seemed to be content to roam.

He never came to meetin' camp,
An' folks called him "that wuthless scamp!"

But I have seen him on the hill,
At sunset, watch the sky until
He seemed to grow an inch in height,
As if he breathed the very sight.

An' felt my eyes grow sort o' damp
A-watchin' him—"that wuthless scamp!"

I've seen him in the woods alone,
A-lis'nin' to its lazy drone,
As if 'twas music that he heered—
His eyes so set, they had me skeered.

He thought great things, I guess, to tramp
All day alone—"that wuthless scamp!"

I've heered him laugh at children's play—
A laugh so clear, an' sweet, an' gay,
That trembled like the organ when
They drown its wheezin', now an' then.

But reg'lar folks at meetin' camp
Said he was "lost"—"that wuthless scamp!"

He always was the lonesome kind—
A sort o' misfit—didn't find
His fun in things that others did,
As boy an' man, his heart was hid.

I think the folks who shun his stamp,
Don't understand "that wuthless scamp!"





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