(@3He speaks.@1) WALKING, walking, oh, the joy of walking! Swinging down the tawny lanes with head held high; Striding up the green hills, through the heather stalking, Swishing through the woodlands where the brown leaves lie; Marvelling at all things -- windmills gaily turning, Apples for the cider-press, ruby-hued and gold; Tails of rabbits twinkling, scarlet berries burning, Wedge of geese high-flying in the sky's clear cold, Light in little windows, field and furrow darkling; Home again returning, hungry as a hawk; Whistling up the garden, ruddy-cheeked and sparkling, Oh, but I am happy as I walk, walk, walk! (@3She speaks.@1) Walking, walking, oh, the curse of walking! Slouching round the grim square, shuffling up the street, Slinking down the by-way, all my graces hawking, Offering my body to each man I meet. Peering in the gin-shop where the lads are drinking, Trying to look gay-like, crazy with the blues; Halting in a doorway, shuddering and shrinking (Oh, my draggled feather and my thin, wet shoes). Here's a drunken drover: "Hullo, there, old dearie!" No, he only curses, can't be got to talk. . . . On and on till daylight, famished, wet and weary, God in Heaven help me as I walk, walk, walk! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BALLADE OF DEAD LADIES by FRANCOIS VILLON ON MY THIRTY-THIRD BIRTHDAY by GEORGE GORDON BYRON SONNET: 21. TO CYRIACK SKINNER by JOHN MILTON A YOUTH TO HIS FATHER by WALTER R. ADAMS ICED BRANCHES by KENNETH SLADE ALLING THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONATUICA): JASON'S SOWING AND REAPING by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS THREE THROWS AND ONE by JANE BARLOW |