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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=368036" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Fence</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=368036" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I built the fence on a cold grey hill<br>With bar and shovel and axe and maul<br>And quite a measure of toil and will, <br>For I needed a paddock to clear and till, <br>So I dug the holes by the bloodwoods tall<br>And I felled the ones that grew on the line<br>And cut them into a handy length<br>That would serve the purpose of my design, <br>For each a link in the fence's spine, <br>And each would add to the fence its strength.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=368036" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Each post I barked, and I sapped and stood<br>In a line as straight as a rifle shot, <br>And the sap ran red from the honest wood<br>Of the native gum that was sound and good<br>And with age would harden and never rot, <br>Then the wire, I strung, and I strained it tight, <br>And each post I fixed to the jagged wire, <br>So my fence was finished by fall of night<br>When my gaze was drawn to a distant light<br>And I turned for the warmth of home and fire.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=368036" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>© Dennis N. O'Brien,2011 - 2012</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Dennis+N.+O%27Brien">Dennis N. O'Brien</a></strong></div>

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