THE OLD MINE SHAFT Poem
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An old mine shaft, with its cold, dead eye, Staring out from the mountain side, Is a lonely sight to see Where someone's hopes once died. I like to climb up and nose around, And sit down and meditate About the one who labored so hard, What finally became his fate. He must have been strong hearted — And had a will of iron, to try to wrest a fortune From that desert mountain so barren. How with trembling hands The first sample he took, And tramped for days into town. To record officially This treasure he had found. With pack on his back, And burro to track, The long trek back to his claim Where he toiled and sweat in the solitude For the fortune he thought he'd made, How he dug for days when the vein gave out And then pulled out in despair. That's why an old mine shaft seems so lonesome, As out over the desert it stares. |
