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...SONG OF KAREN, THE DANCING CHILD by KATHERINE MANSFIELD SPRING IN NEW HAMPSHIRE by CLAUDE MCKAY SONNET: 1. THE BRIGHT MOON by CONRAD AIKEN VARIATIONS: 10 by CONRAD AIKEN UTOPIA by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE DAY OF THE DEAD SOLDIERS; MARY 30, 1869 by EMMA LAZARUS FLUTE-PRIEST SONG FOR RAIN; CEREMONIAL AT THE SUN SPRING by AMY LOWELL |