Old Ben

An Unfinished Work

Sometime, not long ago, in summer of
Such cruel heat, such heat that e’en the dove
Made warlike stance in meadow, field, and glen,
I had a close encounter with Old Ben.

Old Ben—the name yet still has power to shake
My hard-bought measure of tranquility!
Old Ben—my heart doth still full measure ache,
The thought of him destroys my soul’s civility!

It was on Tuesday, in my mind the day
Is fixed so firmly that there is no way
That memory will slip, as oft is does
And blurs one’s picture of just how it was.

Alas! The image haunts me even yet,
Corrupting even moments most enthralling -
Alas! I rue the day that we two met,
The day on which Old Ben on me came calling!

Just as the fisherman his fish will find,
Just as the farmer wOOPS PHONE CALL HAVE
TO TAKE THIS CATCH YOU LATER BYE