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POEM OF THE DAY
THE OLD LINE FENCE
Zig-zagging it went
On the line of the farm,
And the trouble it caused
Was often quite warm,
|The old line fence|.
It was changed every year
By decree of the court,
To which, when worn out,
Our sires would resort
|With the old line fence|.
In hoeing their corn,
When the sun, too, was hot,
They surely would jaw,
Punch or claw, when they got
|To the old line fence|.
In dividing the lands
It fulfilled no desires,
But answered quite well
In "dividing" our sires,
|This old line fence|.
Though sometimes in this
It would happen to fail,
When, with top rail in hand,
One would flare up and scale
|The old line fence|!
Then the conflict was sharp
On debatable ground,
And the fertile soil there
Would be mussed far around
|The old line fence|.
It was shifted so oft
That no flowers there grew.
What frownings and clods,
And what words were shot through
|The old line fence|!
Our sires through the day
There would quarrel or fight,
With a vigour and vim,
But 'twas different at night
|By the old line fence|.
The fairest maid there
You would have descried
That ever leaned soft
On the opposite side
|Of an old line fence|.
Where our fathers built hate
There we builded our love,
Breathed our vows to be true
With our hands raised above
|The old line fence|.
Its place might be changed,
But there we would meet,
With our heads through the rails,
And with kisses most sweet,
|At the old line fence|.
It was love made the change,
And the clasping of hands
Ending ages of hate,
And between us now stands
|Not a sign of line fence|.
No debatable ground
Now enkindles alarms.
I've the girl I met there,
And, well, both of the farms,
|And no line fence|.
A. W. Bellow.
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