There overtook me and drew me in <br />To his down-hill, early-morning stride, <br />And set me five miles on my road <br />Better than if he had had me ride, <br />A man with a swinging bag for'load <br />And half the bag wound round his hand. <br />We talked like barking above the din <br />Of water we walked along beside. <br />And for my telling him where I'd been <br />And where I lived in mountain land <br />To be coming home the way I was, <br />He told me a little about himself. <br />He came from higher up in the pass <br />Where the grist of the new-beginning brooks <br />Is blocks split off the mountain mass -- <br />And hop. eless grist enough it looks <br />Ever to grind to soil for grass. <br />(The way it is will do for moss.) <br />There he had built his stolen shack. <br />It had to be a stolen shack <br />Because of the fears of fire and logs <br />That trouble the sleep of lumber folk: <br />Visions of half the world burned black <br />And the sun shrunken yellow in smoke. <br />We know who when they come to town <br />Bring berries under the wagon seat, <br />Or a basket of eggs between their feet; <br />What this man brought in a cotton sack <br />Was gum, the gum of the mountain spruce. <br />He showed me lumps of the scented stuff <br />Like uncut jewels, dull and rough <br />It comes to market golden brown; <br />But turns to pink between the teeth. <br />I told him this is a pleasant life <br />To set your breast to the bark of trees <br />That all your days are dim beneath, <br />And reaching up with a little knife, <br />To loose the resin and take it down <br />And bring it to market when you please.<br /><br />Robert Lee Frost<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/gum-gatherer-the/
