I INHERITED forty acres from my Father And, by working my wife, my two sons and two daughters From dawn to dusk, I acquired A thousand acres. But not content, Wishing to own two thousand acres, I bustled through the years with axe and plow, Toiling, denying myself, my wife, my sons, my daughters. Squire Higbee wrongs me to say That I died from smoking Red Eagle cigars. Eating hot pie and gulping coffee During the scorching hours of harvest time Brought me here ere I had reached my sixtieth year. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODES III, 29 by QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS ADLESTROP by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS FLORENTINE INGRATITUDE by WILLIAM BLAKE MESSAGES by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE AIRS SUNG AT BROUGHAM CASTLE: THE LORDS WELCOME by THOMAS CAMPION TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 2. SQUINANCY-WORT by EDWARD CARPENTER |