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Fiddler Jones

Rating: 2.9
The earth keeps some vibration going
There in your heart, and that is you.
And if the people find you can fiddle,
Why, fiddle you must, for all your life.
What do you see, a harvest of clover?
Or a meadow to walk through to the river?
The wind's in the corn; you rub your hands
For beeves hereafter ready for market;
Or else you hear the rustle of skirts
Like the girls when dancing at Little Grove.
To Cooney Potter a pillar of dust
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COMMENTS
Olivia .o 16 February 2016
I love this. It is a beautiful poem
3 3 Reply
Alisha Castle 07 January 2016
lovely poetry...............
3 3 Reply
Lot of happiness in reading this poem and likes it.
6 2 Reply
Rajesh Thankappan 28 February 2015
Nice poem. Loved it.
4 2 Reply

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