Ridgely Torrence


The Son - Poem by Ridgely Torrence

I heard an old farm-wife,
   Selling some barley,
Mingle her life with life
   And the name "Charley".

Saying, "The crop's all in,
   We're about through now;
Long nights will soon begin,
   We're just us two now.

Twelve bushels at sixty cents,
   It's all I carried --
He sickened making fence;
   He was to be married --

It feels like frost was near --
   His hair was curly.
The spring was late that year,
   But the harvest early."


Comments about The Son by Ridgely Torrence

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Read poems about / on: spring, hair, son, life



Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 4, 2003



[Report Error]