Why are you running so fast hither and thither <br />Chasing midges or butterflies? <br />Some of you are standing solemnly scratching for grubs; <br />Some of you are waiting for corn to be scattered. <br />This is life, is it? <br />Cock-a-doodle-do! Very well, Thomas Rhodes, <br />You are cock of the walk, no doubt. <br />But here comes Elliott Hawkins, <br />Gluck, Gluck, Gluck, attracting political followers. <br />Quah! quah! quah! why so poetical, Minerva, <br />This gray morning? <br />Kittie -- quah -- quah! for shame, Lucius Atherton, <br />The raucous squawk you evoked from the throat <br />Of Aner Clute will be taken up later <br />By Mrs. Benjamin Pantier as a cry <br />Of votes for women: Ka dook -- dook! <br />What inspiration has come to you, Margaret Fuller Slack? <br />And why does your gooseberry eye <br />Flit so liquidly, Tennessee Claflin Shope? <br />Are you trying to fathom the esotericism of an egg? <br />Your voice is very metallic this morning, Hortense Robbins -- <br />Almost like a guinea hen's! <br />Quah! That was a guttural sigh, Isaiah Beethoven; <br />Did you see the shadow of the hawk, <br />Or did you step upon the drumsticks <br />Which the cook threw out this morning? <br />Be chivalric, heroic, or aspiring, <br />Metaphysical, religious, or rebellious, <br />You shall never get out of the barnyard <br />Except by way of over the fence <br />Mixed with potato peelings and such into the trough!<br /><br />Edgar Lee Masters<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/plymouth-rock-joe/
