There was an old man lived out in the wood, His trade was a-cutting of Broom, green Broom;... He had but one son without thrift, without good, Who lay in his bed till 'twas noon, bright noon.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
The sounds are: the brisk swish of broom on tatami matting, the raucous cawing of hooded crows in a nearby willow grove; clickety-... clackety rattle of chattering housewives, a sound like briskly plied knitting needles, for Japanese is a language full of Ts and Ks; and, in the mornings, the crowing of a cock.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
A learned parson, rusting in his cell at Oxford or Cambridge, will reason admirably well on the nature of man; will profoundly ana...lyse the head, the heart, the reason, the will, the passions, the sentiments, and all those subdivisions of we know not what; and yet, unfortunately, he knows nothing of man.... He views man as he does colours in Sir Isaac Newton's prism, where only the capital ones are seen; but an experienced dyer knows all their various shades and gradations, together with the result of their several mixtures.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Once, when dust rolled up from the road and the fields were high with heavy-handled wheat and the leaves of every tree were gray a...nd curledup and hung head down, I went in the meadow with an old broom like a gun, where the dandelions had begun to seed and the low ground was cracked, and I flushed grasshoppers from the goldenrod in whirring clouds like quail and shot them down. I smelled wheat in the warm wind and every weed. I tasted dust in my mouth.... I hunted Horse Simon in the shade of a tree. I rode the broom over the brown meadow grass and with a fist like pistol butt and trigger shot the Indian on Horse Simon down.... My horse had a golden tail. Dust rolled up behind. He was on the tractor in a broad-brimmed hat. With a fist like a pistol butt and trigger, going fast, I shot him down.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room, Barrel-house kings, with feet unstable,... Sagged and reeled and pounded on the table, Pounded on the table, Beat an empty barrel with the handle of a broom, Hard as they were able,LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
There should be less talk; a preaching point is not a meeting point. What do you do then? Take a broom and clean someone's house. ...That says enough.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
... the ocean could not be swept back with a broom. The truth was out. It illuminated the world. Motherhood no longer cringed befo...re the relentless laws of fecundity.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
And then finally there's your grandmother Sweeping the dust of the nineteenth century... Into the twentieth, and your grandfather plucking A straw out of the broom to pick his teeth.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
If the juggler is tired now, if the broom stands In the dust again, if the table starts to drop... Through the daily dark again, and though the plate Lies flat on the table top, For him we batter our hands Who has won for once over the world's weight.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »