Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE TIMBER WOLVES, by IVAN SWIFT



Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE TIMBER WOLVES, by                    
First Line: We are the slaves of the timber land
Last Line: The boss of care is the king of the world!
Subject(s): Frost; Slavery; Snow; Wilderness; Wolves; Serfs


WE are the slaves of the timber land —
Me and the black and bay.
We work by the day for a pittance of pay,
Pork for the man and the horses' hay!
Slaves! — I say? —
Of the skid and the sleigh? —
'T was the echoed word
Of the world you heard, —
For the nags and me
Are the wind and the tree —
And none so free!
We're czars of the lumbering band!

We sound for the sun his reveille,
With the clang of the logging-chain,
And the biting of the frost disdain!
We warm to the work and won't complain.
Ours the woods of Maine!
(Shiver! ye fields of cane!)
Hills of snow and a hammering bell!
Four thousand scale as hard as hell!
Get up, Jack! — Together, Nell!
Break your tugs!
Shake your lugs! —
Your frozen steam
Is a passing dream
When you sleep in the straw with me!

The slaves are rolling the logs of towns! —
Give'em the lot they've drawn!
The blood and brawn, and the liquor of dawn
Are enough for us! We're up and gone! —
A ten-league run
Is a race with the sun!
The horses' keep,
And a cave for sleep —
(Better a bear than a shivering sheep)
Meat and bread,
And a blanket-bed —
And the prayers for more we leave to clowns!

To the hags of storm my song is hurled!
My poem's the creak of the hickory rack!
The lashes' crack, in the woods rung back,
Is a fire in the veins of the bay and black!
How they dance,
And heave and prance!
O, wild and free,
We're comrades three —
Born of the wind and wave!
Little to lose or save —
What of the grave! —
The boss of care is the king of the world!





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