You wild, uncooked young fellow! The swinkèd hind will stumble home Not looking at the tasks he scorned to shirk. Impelled to respite by rough hands, The labored ox will bellow; While you stand there agape before your handiwork. Not all good men are mellow. You savor of a walnut rind, Of oak leaves, or plucked mullein on the brae. And yet with all your clumsiness, You give me pleasure, fellow; Your candor compensates me for my old bouquet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN I WROTE A LITTLE by HAYDEN CARRUTH MOUNTAIN FARM by MALCOLM COWLEY FRAGMENTS WRITTEN WHILE TRAVELING...A MIDWESTERN HEAT WAVE by JAMES GALVIN FRANCIS II, KING OF NAPLES; SONNET by AMY LOWELL EIGHTEEN-DOLLAR TAXI TRIP TO TIZAPAN AND BACK TO CHAPALA by CLARENCE MAJOR |