Poems about tool
Other Went To The Grief That Nestled
but not the grief that nestled close
it's thoughts and just two heart
and other went to turn the mill
one hand the tools
and closer to the fire
had it a notice from the noon
another way to see
so go your way and i'll go mine
The Beady Spider, The Wind Out Of
the first tool i step on
if i was not to speak of it to you
and often they brought so much to say
i shall have less to say,
what had how long it takes a birch to rot
what brought the kindred spider to that height?
to see, if in a dream they brought of you,
in one last look the way they must not go,
but not long since in the lumber camps,
where the boughs rain when it blows,
but the wind out of doors�you know the saying,
but the secret sits in the middle and knows,
the headless aftermath,
the beady spider, the flower like a froth,
and the awe passes wonder then,