Day 8. Pastoral by William Carlos Williams.
When I was younger
It was plain to me
I must make something of myself
Older now
I walk back streets
Admiring houses
Of the very poor
Roof out of line with sides
The yard cluttered
With old chicken wire, ashes
Furniture gone wrong
The fences and outhouses
Built of barrel staves
And parts of boxes, all,
If I am fortunate,
Smeared a blush green
That properly weathered
Pleases me best of all colours
No one
Will believe this
Of vast import to the nation.
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