Incident in a Rose Garden

One of the reasons I like to teach is that I like the stuff I teach. Since we've already covered explosive diarrhea gummy bears in the last post, let's read something a bit more serious. There are two versions of this poem. This one is better, I think.

Incident in a Rose Garden: Donald Justice

The gardener came running.
An old man, out of breath.
Fear had given him legs.

Sir, I encountered Death
Just now among our roses
Thin as a scythe he stood there.

I knew him by his pictures
He had on his black coat
Black gloves, and broad black hat.

I think he would have spoken,
Seeing his mouth stood open.
Big it was, with white teeth.

As soon as he beckoned, I ran.
I ran untill I found you.
Sir, I'm quitting my job.

I want to see my sons
Once more before I die.
I want to see California.



We shook hands and he was off.
And there stoop Death in the garden.
Dressed like a Spanish waiter.
He had the air of someone
Who because he likes arriving
At all appointments early Learns to think himself a patient.
I watched him pinch one blossom off
And hold it close to his nose--
A connoisseur of roses--
One Bloom and then another.
They strewned the earth around him

Sir, you must be that stranger
Who threatened my gardener.
This is my property, sir.
I welcome only friends here.

Death grinned, and his eyes lit up
With the pale glow of those lanterns
That workmen carry sometimes
To light their way through dusk.
Now with great care he slid
The glove from his right hand
And held that out in greeting,
A little cage of bone.

Sir, I knew your father.
And we were friends at the end.

As for your gardener,
I did not threaten him.
Old men mistake my gestures.

I only ment to ask him
To show me to his master.
I take it you are he? by Donald Justice The gardener came running.
An old man, out of breath.
Fear had given him legs.

Sir, I encountered Death
Just now among our roses
Thin as a scythe he stood there.

I knew him by his pictures
He had on his black coat
Black gloves, and broad black hat.

I think he would have spoken,
Seeing his mouth stood open.
Big it was, with white teeth.

As soon as he beckoned, I ran.
I ran untill I found you.
Sir, I'm quitting my job.

I want to see my sons
Once more before I die.
I want to see California.

We shook hands and he was off.
And there stood Death in the garden.
Dressed like a Spanish waiter.
He had the air of someone
Who because he likes arriving
At all appointments early Learns to think himself a patient.
I watched him pinch one blossom off
And hold it close to his nose--
A connoisseur of roses--
One Bloom and then another.
They strewned the earth around him

Sir, you must be that stranger
Who threatened my gardener.
This is my property, sir.
I welcome only friends here.

Death grinned, and his eyes lit up
With the pale glow of those lanterns
That workmen carry sometimes
To light their way through dusk.
Now with great care he slid
The glove from his right hand
And held that out in greeting,
A little cage of bone.

Sir, I knew your father.
And we were friends at the end.

As for your gardener,
I did not threaten him.
Old men mistake my gestures.

I only ment to ask him
To show me to his master.
I take it you are he?