Bindlestiff   Edwin Ford Piper   …The tones came mellower, as unevenly. The tramp limped off trailing the hobo song:         Good-bye, farewell to Omaha,   K. C., and Denver, too; Put my foot on the flying freight,   Going to ride her through.   Bindlestiff topped a hillock, against the sky        Showed stick and bundle with his extra shoes Jauntily dangling. Bird to bird once more Made low sweet answer; in the wild rose cups The bee found yellow meal; all softly moved The white and purple morning-glory bells        As on the gently rustling hedgetop leaves The sun’s face rested. Bindlestiff was gone.   Oh, the lives of men, lives of men,   In pattern-molds be run; But there’s you, and me, and Bindlestiff—           And remember Mary’s Son.   Poetry, A Magazine of Verse



       

Bindlestiff

 

Edwin Ford Piper

 


…The tones came mellower, as unevenly.

The tramp limped off trailing the hobo song:


        Good-bye, farewell to Omaha,

  K. C., and Denver, too;

Put my foot on the flying freight,

  Going to ride her through.

 

Bindlestiff topped a hillock, against the sky

       Showed stick and bundle with his extra shoes


Jauntily dangling. Bird to bird once more

Made low sweet answer; in the wild rose cups

The bee found yellow meal; all softly moved


The white and purple morning-glory bells

       As on the gently rustling hedgetop leaves

The sun’s face rested. Bindlestiff was gone.

 

Oh, the lives of men, lives of men,

  In pattern-molds be run;

But there’s you, and me, and Bindlestiff—

       

  And remember Mary’s Son.

  Poetry, A Magazine of Verse



Friday Mar 3 @ 12:38pm with 6 notes
6 notes
tagged as: hobo. vintage. trains. dog. old photography. dust bowl. depression. poverty.

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