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Poem by Frederick Goddard Tuckerman


Second Series. 1. That boy, the farmer said, with hazel wand


That boy, the farmer said, with hazel wand
Pointing him out, half by the haycock hid,
Though bare sixteen, can work at what he's bid
From sun till set, to cradle, reap, or band.
I heard the words, but scarce could understand
Whether they claimed a smile or gave me pain:
Or was it aught to me, in that green lane,
That all day yesterday, the briars amid,
He held the plough against the jarring land
Steady, or kept his place among the mowers
Whilst other fingers, sweeping for the flowers,
Brought from the forest back a crimson stain?
Was it a thorn that touched the flesh, or did
The pokeberry spit purple on my hand?



Frederick Goddard Tuckerman


Frederick Goddard Tuckerman's other poems:
  1. First Series. 5. And so the day drops by, the horizon draws
  2. First Series. 13. As one who walks and weeps by alien brine
  3. First Series. 26. For Nature daily through her grand design
  4. First Series. 27. So to the mind long brooding but on it
  5. Third Series. 4. Thin little leaves of wood fern, ribbed and toothed


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