For a Child of 1918 <br /> <br />My grandfather said to me <br />as we sat on the wagon seat, <br />"Be sure to remember to always <br />speak to everyone you meet." <br /> <br />We met a stranger on foot. <br />My grandfather's whip tapped his hat. <br />"Good day, sir. Good day. A fine day." <br />And I said it and bowed where I sat. <br /> <br />Then we overtook a boy we knew <br />with his big pet crow on his shoulder. <br />"Always offer everyone a ride; <br />don't forget that when you get older," <br /> <br />my grandfather said. So Willy <br />climbed up with us, but the crow <br />gave a "Caw!" and flew off. I was worried. <br />How would he know where to go? <br /> <br />But he flew a little way at a time <br />from fence post to fence post, ahead; <br />and when Willy whistled he answered. <br />"A fine bird," my grandfather said, <br /> <br />"and he's well brought up. See, he answers <br />nicely when he's spoken to. <br />Man or beast, that's good manners. <br />Be sure that you both always do." <br /> <br />When automobiles went by, <br />the dust hid the people's faces, <br />but we shouted "Good day! Good day! <br />Fine day!" at the top of our voices. <br /> <br />When we came to Hustler Hill, <br />he said that the mare was tired, <br />so we all got down and walked, <br />as our good manners required.<br /><br />Elizabeth Bishop<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/manners/
