I saw you when you reached the paper mill, You seemed forlorn, your bark was rough and scarred; I watched you chipped; you were so very hard, Men steeped you in a boiling vat until You were a pulp; you did not dare stand still; A flattened thin, white face was your reward; But you were ready to receive and guard My weeviled thoughts expressed with care and skill. When you see men with long red noses stare At you, you think they are woodpecker birds Who follow on your trail to catch their share Of bugs that one time came to you in herds; And as your pages turn, the readers dare To scan your bark for black-shelled beetle-words. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AT THE BRITISH MUSEUM by RICHARD ALDINGTON CONTRA MORTEM: THE WHEEL OF BEING II by HAYDEN CARRUTH JOY (2) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON MODULATIONS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A BIRTHDAY SONG by SIDNEY LANIER |