If I had a different life to live this would be the foolish one-- to root, hog, sleep and procreate. Always across my mud hole I see the farmer waiting for my size to grow, as he leans close up upon his rake. I do not even want to be the farmer nor the wife whose pig is well done, but the stranger passing by out of curiosity and anxious to get away from the smell. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SYMPHONIC STUDIES (AFTER ROBERT SCHUMANN) by EMMA LAZARUS KEATS TO FANNY BRAWNE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TO WHISTLER, AMERICAN; ON LOAN EXHIBIT OF PAINTINGS AT TATE GALLERY by EZRA POUND IN THE UNDERWORLD by ISAAC ROSENBERG THE ARCHITECT (2) by KAREN SWENSON THE BALINESE WITCH DOCTOR by KAREN SWENSON |