by Arthur Crew Inman
Down the great and ponderous river,
A man, lean, sinewy, tireless,
Poles his deeply laden barge.
And as he poles he chants a song,
Monotonous, dreary, sad,
A song from the centuries past,
Born when the earth and race were young,
Ages and ages ago.
When he is dead,
And the gay poppies on the bank
Flaunt above his grave,
Even as he,
Will pole his deeply laden barge,
Down the great and ponderous river --
Ere he too passes.
But the song will not die.
Last updated May 08, 2023