THE THREE-CORNERED LOT
Said the farmer to his daughter: “When I die, as like as not,
I’ll leave to you the title to the old three-cornered lot.
“’Tis the vale beyond the pastures, never any good to me,
With the huckleberry bushes and the silver maple-tree.
“Fair scenery for song birds, but too small to cultivate;
Yet there’s a wall around it, like a foolish man’s estate.”
Fell a blight upon the corn fields; stood an empty barn and cot;
The farmer’s holdings dwindled to the old three-cornered lot.
He saw his home dismantled; learned that permanence, alas,
Is the portrait of a swallow painted on the shadow grass.
Came his daughter as a seeress, and she said: “As like as not,
I’m giving back the title to the old three-cornered lot.
“’Tis just a bit of scenery too sweet to cultivate,
Yet there’s a wall around it, like a nobleman’s estate;
“There are huckleberry bushes and a length of garden loam,
And the stone walls of the foolish man wherewith to build a home.”