HE is a man with stubbled, lean, grey face, He wears an old, grey coat, and, when it rains— A curious cape to fend him from the weather: His knees are tied with string, and round his legs Are wrapped brown gaiters. He has a tall, grey hat Which once belonged to gentry. He is an old man—over seventy years, And often there is dourness in his face ... Perhaps some of the drabness of the streets Has crept within him after all his days Of serving in the garbage and the mud. I see him every day, and often wonder Whether he could have chosen otherwise Than to be constant with his brush and cart and shovel Keeping the road clean. I wonder what his thought are ... if he thinks at all, But whether he thinks or not He does his work well. Sometimes he makes me think Whether I keep a road clean ... for anyone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...APPLES OF HESPERIDES by AMY LOWELL THE CHANT OF THE VULTURES by EDWIN MARKHAM THE NEGRO'S TRAGEDY by CLAUDE MCKAY |