An Abandoned Quarry
The barberry burns, the rose-hip crimsons warm, And haw and sumach hedge the hill with fire, Down which the road winds, worn of hoof and tire, Only the blueberry-picker plods now from the farm. Here once the quarry-driver, brown of arm, Wielded the whip when, deep in mud and mire, The axle strained, and earned his daily hire, Labouring bareheaded in both sun and storm. Wild-cherry now and blackberry and bay Usurp the place: the wild-rose, undisturbed, Riots, where once the workman earned his wage, Whose old hands rest now, like this granite grey, These rocks, whose stubborn will whilom he curbed, Hard as the toil that was his heritage.
AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.
About this line
"The barberry burns, the rose-hip crimsons warm,..."
This evocative piece by Madison Julius Cawein, titled "An Abandoned Quarry", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...