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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=386569" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Joe</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A meadow brown; across the yonder edge<br>A zigzag fence is ambling; here a wedge<br>Of underbush has cleft its course in twain,<br>Till where beyond it staggers up again;<br>The long, grey rails stretch in a broken line<br>Their ragged length of rough, split forest pine,<br>And in their zigzag tottering have reeled<br>In drunken efforts to enclose the field,<br>Which carries on its breast, September born,<br>A patch of rustling, yellow, Indian corn.<br>Beyond its shrivelled tassels, perched upon<br>The topmost rail, sits Joe, the settler’s son,<br>A little semi-savage boy of nine.<br>Now dozing in the warmth of Nature’s wine,<br>His face the sun has tampered with, and wrought,<br>By heated kisses, mischief, and has brought<br>Some vagrant freckles, while from here and there<br>A few wild locks of vagabond brown hair<br>Escape the old straw hat the sun looks through,<br>And blinks to meet his Irish eyes of blue.<br>Barefooted, innocent of coat or vest,<br>His grey checked shirt unbuttoned at his chest,<br>Both hardy hands within their usual nest— <br>His breeches pockets — so, he waits to rest<br>His little fingers, somewhat tired and worn,<br>That all day long were husking Indian corn.<br>His drowsy lids snap at some trivial sound,<br>With lazy yawns he slips towards the ground,<br>Then with an idle whistle lifts his load<br>And shambles home along the country road<br>That stretches on fringed out with stumps and weeds,<br>And finally unto the backwoods leads,<br>Where forests wait with giant trunk and bough<br>The axe of pioneer, the settler’s plough.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Emily+Pauline+Johnson">Emily Pauline Johnson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=386569" data-title="Joe de Emily Pauline Johnson" data-description="A meadow brown; across the yonder edge
A zigzag fence is ambling; here a wedge
Of underbush has cleft its course in twain,
Till where beyond it staggers up again;
The long, grey rails stretch in a broken line
Their ragged length of rough, split fo..."></div>
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