Page 6
By Jack Joseph Smith
It is a continual exploration with birth,
standing on your shoulders, shouldered with LEAVES
And mother is the lady who does not yawn
And a mallberry bush does not put
a wifes mind to sewing
On the medow marrying young;
crushed black and tan and golden too
Fire for coal and wood alike
We are the only spring
Unless these three AS
So we leave three other seasons
To our rest; for others to judge
Yes; and when going out without a work,
there is allowed a thought of John Brown,
and a home at Harper's Ferry;
a continuation of valleys, canyons, plains,
and the asphalt from Utah To West Virigian
just for your bottling