Our home wasn't grand enough to have one room we could use as a library, so the several bookcases we had, were sprinkled around the whole house.One or two graced every room, but the kitchen. At least one in each bedroom,two or three in the living room, opposite the wall where the baby grand piano made it's fairly permanent home,considering one doesn't usually move them around a lot,and at least three in the dinning room, since that was where we did our homework.We had everything from sci-fi, to all manner of reference works, such as the dictionary,Roget's, and encyclopedia,and books of poetry and classic fiction.One of my favorites called,"Poems Teachers Ask for" was a really old book. I can still see it...a dusty brown, with black lettering,and a soft fabric binding that had already begun to shred.Every move we have made was complicated by dozens of boxes of books, and I always figured that somewhere in that pile, was that book.Well, I was wrong.Somewhere along the line, at some point,several of my faves have drifted away, that book of poetry included.Worse yet, the one poem that I have always loved, " The Calf Path" I could only recall in part, and I had forgotten, or never knew, the author of the poem.I have searched and searched for years to find it again, hampered greatly by the one piece of knowledge that would have made it easy.Needless to say, I have now finally found it, or I wouldn't be writing this piece,and now, faithfully rendered, I present it to you, for your enjoyment,and edification.
THE CALF PATH
One day, thru the primeval wood
a calf walked home, as good calves should;
But made a trail, all bent askew,
a crooked trail, as all calves do.
Since then 300 years have fled, and
I infer the calf is dead.
But still, he left behind his trail
and thereby hangs my mortal tale.
The trail was taken up next day
By a lone dog that passed that way.
And then, the wise bell weathered Sheep
pursued the trail, o're vail and steep,
and drew the flocks behind him too
As good bell weathers always do.
And from the day, o're hill and glade
thru those old woods a path was made
And many men wound in and out,
and dodged and turned and bent about,
and uttered words of righteous wrath,
Because t'was such a crooked path,
But still they followed, do not laugh,
the first migrations of that calf .
And thru the winding woodways stalked,
because he wobbled, when he walked.
The forest path became a lane
That bent, and turned, and turned again.
This crooked lane became road
Where many a poor horse with his load
toiled on beneath the burning sun
and traveled some three miles in one.
And thus a century and a half,
they trod the footsteps of that calf.
The years passed on in swiftness fleet,
the road became a village street.
And this, before men were aware,
a cities crowded thoroughfare.
And soon the central street was this
Of a renowned metropolis.
And men, two centuries and a half
Trod the footsteps of that calf.
Each day a 100 thousand route
followed the zig-zag calf about,
and o'er his crooked journey went
the traffic of a continent.
A 100 thousand men were led
By one calf near three centuries dead.
They followed still his crooked way,
and lost 100 years per day....
for thus such reverence is lent
to well established precedent.
A moral lesson this might teach,
were I ordained...and called to preach.
For men are prone to go it blind along the calf paths of the mind,
And work away from sun to sun, to do what other men have done.
They follow in the beaten track,and in and out,
and forth and back,
And still their devious course pursue,to keep the paths that others do.
They keep the paths- a sacred groove, along which all their lives they move.
But how the wise old wood gods must laugh,
Who saw that first primeval calf....
Sam Walter Foss
Now, this is the poem as I remember it, but my source included a line I don't recall ever hearing, so I have included it, separately, even though I feel it's a bit redundant...
(Ah, many things this tale might teach,But I am not ordained to preach.)
Just to be complete.
As a child, I found this poem to be hysterically funny, and never forgot it's point, so I guess that is why I have always been a bit of a rebel.And my favorite parts are:
"And thru the winding woodway stalked, because he wobbled, when he walked..."
and,"For men are prone to go it blind along the calf paths of the mind...and work away from sun to sun, to do what other men have done."
and"And in and out, and forth and back, and still their devious course pursue, to keep the paths that others do."
I hope that you appreciate this work one quarter as much as I enjoyed bringing it to you, because it is as true today as it was in Sam Walter Foss's day who lived from 1858-1911! As far as I am concerned, he was well ahead of his time. What do you think? How many calves did you follow today?
OUI?
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