Classic and Contemporary Poetry
RURAL PROGRESS; OR WE'RE LIVIN' 'MOST IN TOWN, by WILLIAM STEWARD GORDON First Line: So you're sorry for us fellows Last Line: Are a-livin' 'most in town. Subject(s): Camping; Country Life; Fields; Towns; Camps; Summer Camps; Pastures; Meadows; Leas | ||||||||
So you're sorry for us fellows With the hayseed in our hair, As you see the world's procession Leave us hangin' in the air! And you think I'd trade this homestead For a little "fifty feet" Down among the dingy buildin's At the foot of Market Street? Now I want to tell you, stranger, While my dinner settles down, That us farmers in the country Are a-livin' 'most in town. Why the horses used to caper When they saw a little bike, Like they thought "Old Nick" himself Was a-ridin' up the pike. Now, when they meet an auto, As it's puttin' on the style On our gilt-edged granite highway, They seem to kind o' smile, Like they think it must be winded, As its breathin' is so loud, And they wonder if it's rattled From the racket o' the crowd. And we get your city daily By the handy R. F. D., While the Mexicans are chasin' One another up a tree. And John is in the college How it stirs a father's pride! For he's captain of the football, And takes learnin' on the side. And Mary's takin' music (Now she calls herself Marie), And has all the variations As far as I can see. And we have the very preacher That last year preached for you, For he's restin' in the country, Just as others ought to do. We are phonin' to the neighbors, And a motor line's projected, And they'll fire a "wireless" at us If we are not soon protected. And we're raisin' coreless apples To take with us to the fair, And we'll harness up our trotters And will beat the motor there. But when we're tired of tumult And a-campin' on "The Trail," We will strike for clover blossoms And the pipin' of the quail. And while eatin' Jersey butter And a-layin' in the shade We will pity that poor fellow That was anxious for a trade. I want to tell you, stranger, While my dinner settles down, That us farmers up the valley Are a-livin' 'most in town. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HUNTING PHEASANTS IN A CORNFIELD by ROBERT BLY THREE KINDS OF PLEASURES by ROBERT BLY QUESTION IN A FIELD by LOUISE BOGAN THE LAST MOWING by ROBERT FROST FIELD AND FOREST by RANDALL JARRELL AN EXPLANATION by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON IN FIELDS OF SUMMER by GALWAY KINNELL A HUSTLE FOR THE FAIR by WILLIAM STEWARD GORDON |
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