Читать книгу Hazards - Wilfrid Wilson Gibson - Страница 20

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Dead-level—he could always plane the deal

Dead-level; ay, his work was always true;

For every trick and turn of tools he knew,

And little you could teach him about steel;

And, after all these years, he understood

Something about the vagaries of wood:

With timber, oak or ash or pine, the grain

Gave him no sort of trouble: but with life

Outside his business, somehow always he

Wrought dead against the grain, and jarred his plane

On unexpected knots incessantly ...

And womenfolk—how simple life would be

If a man could but wed a timber wife!