UNDER the spreading chestnut tree The village smithy stood. The smith, a mighty man was he, With arms like corded wood. He did tremendous things in iron, And did his patrons—good! To-day, few hoof - tracks near his door, And he has banked his fires; But he has ten assistants now, And each in toil perspires, And all the ground 'round his garage Is marked by countless tires! The smith is far from being broke— Fat bankrolls now are his; He tinkers from the limousine Down to the humblest Liz— And he showers praise on him who first Invented the auto biz! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A FAT LADY SEEN FROM THE TRAIN by FRANCES CROFTS DARWIN CORNFORD THE QUILTING by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE BRONZE STATUE OF NAPOLEON by AUGUSTE BARBIER SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 50. MY LOVE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THE ANSWER by IRMA LITTELL BOICE A MOTHER'S SONG by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH |