Poem: “Canning Time” by Edgar A. Guest

A Heap o’ Livin’

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American Literature – American Poetry – Edgar A. Guest – Poems by Edgar A. Guest – A Heap o’ Livin’
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Canning Time

There’s a wondrous smell of spices
     In the kitchen,
     Most bewitchin’;
  There are fruits cut into slices
  That just set the palate itchin’;
  There’s the sound of spoon on platter
  And the rattle and the clatter;
  And a bunch of kids are hastin’
  To the splendid joy of tastin’:
  It’s the fragrant time of year
  When fruit-cannin’ days are here.

  There’s a good wife gayly smilin’
     And perspirin’
     Some, and tirin’;
  And while jar on jar she’s pilin’
  And the necks o’ them she’s wirin’
  I’m a-sittin’ here an’ dreamin’
  Of the kettles that are steamin’,
  And the cares that have been troublin’
  All have vanished in the bubblin’.
  I am happy that I’m here
  At the cannin’ time of year.

  Lord, I’m sorry for the feller
     That is missin’
     All the hissin’
  Of the juices, red and yeller,

  And can never sit and listen
  To the rattle and the clatter
  Of the sound of spoon on platter.
  I am sorry for the single,
  For they miss the thrill and tingle
  Of the splendid time of year
  When the cannin’ days are here.

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The Dull Road > > >

American Literature – American Poetry – Edgar A. Guest – Poems by Edgar A. Guest – A Heap o’ Livin’

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A Heap o’ Livin’

Canning Time

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