English poetry

Poems in English

Abel Melveny

Abel Melveny

I bought every kind of machine that’s known
Grinders, shellers, planters, mowers,
Mills and rakes and ploughs and threshers
And all of them stood in the rain and sun,
Getting rusted, warped and battered,
For I had no sheds to store them in,
And no use for most of them.
And toward the last, when I thought it over,
There by my window, growing clearer
About myself, as my pulse slowed down,
And looked at one of the mills I bought
Which I didn’t have the slightest need of,
As things turned out, and I never ran
A fine machine, once brightly varnished,
And eager to do its work,
Now with its paint washed off
I saw myself as a good machine
That Life had never used.



Poem Abel Melveny - Edgar Lee Masters