In from the fields they come
To stand about the well, and, drinking, say,
“The tin gives taste!” taking in turn
The dipper from each other’s hands,
The dregs out-flung as each one finishes;
Then as the water in the oil-drum bucket lowers,
They tip that out, to draw a fresher, cooler draught.
And as the windlass slowly turns they talk of other days,
Of quaichs and noggins made of oak; of oak
Grown black with age, and on through generations
And old houses handed down to children’s children,
Till at last, in scattered families, they are lost to ken.
(Dame Mary Gilmore DBE)
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Based on Topics: Sense & Perception Poems, Water Poems, Age Poems, Children Poems, Family Poems, Drinking PoemsBased on Keywords: finishes, windlass, dipper, lowers, out-flung, quaichs