Joseph Warren Beach

From “On the Land”

IT is not as if I stood alone.

When I stop to rest the horses

And take a look at the sky,

It is not me

So much as my father

Stopping in the same furrow:

For I have his shoulders

And his eyes.

And when I stumped that field,

I felt as if I were his father,

Who cleared the first land

And built the house.

My father built on the ell,

But he slept himself

In his father’s bed

In the old house;

And that’s where I sleep.

I hope my son will stick to the land.

I like to watch him plough

Upon that hillside,

And burn brush

Along the road.

It is as much me

As it is himself,

And as much my father

As either of us.