August Manson

If he could break loose just one week for pleasure

And make the trip home! What it would be worth

To poise the plow-tip for its steady pressure

And feel the soft rip of the ready earth!

To walk, and work with shoulders all day long

And breathe the openness and clean earth-smell,

And know instead of prisoner's nerves a strong

Good body-tiredness from day's work done well!

To drench his face at the windmill in the yard,

Change shoes, enter the scrubbed warm kitchen, feed-

Bite off the big coarse mouthfuls, for his hard

Big-teeth to cope with in his hunger's need!

Something will rot here that he cannot spare.

And what gained? Some life-job in stuffy air.