Classic Poem

The ox-team and the automobile
Stood face to face on the long red road.
The long red road was narrow
At the turn of the hill,
And below was the sun-dancing river
Afoam over the rocks.

The mild-mannered beasts stood pat, chewing their cud.
The stubble-bearded man from the mountains,
Rustier than his wagon,
Unmoving eyed the proud chauffeur.
The little ragged girl
With sun-bleached hair,
Sitting on a hard, yellow-powdery bag,
Looked across at the smart motor hats of the ladies,
And their chiffon scarfs
That the light breeze fingered.

The proud chauffeur blew his horn,
But nothing moved —
Except the foaming, sun-dancing river down below.

Then he jerked his head,
And turned his wheel.
And slowly, carefully,
The automobile moved back over the long red road.
And the mild-mannered beasts lifted their feet,
And the stubble-bearded man flipped his rein,
And the ragged little girl looked ahead up the hill.
And the ox-team lumbered and limped over the long red road.