Ridgely Torrence: The Son

The Son

Ridgely Torrence

I heard an old farm-wife,  Selling some barley, Mingle her life with life  And the name "Charley".
Saying, "The crop's all in,  We're about through now; Long nights will soon begin,  We're just us two now.
Twelve bushels at sixty cents,  It's all I carried — He sickened making fence;  He was to be married —
It feels like frost was near —  His hair was curly. The spring was late that year,  But the harvest early."