Men Working

Charming, the movement of girls about a May-pole in May,
Weaving the coloured ribbons in and out,
Charming; youth is charming, youth is fair.

But beautiful the movement of men striking pikes
Into the end of a black pole, and slowly
Raising it out of the damp grass and up into the air.
The clean strike of the pike into the pole: beautiful.

Joe is the boss; but Ed or Bill will say,
“No, Joe; we can’t get it that way—
We’ve got to take it from here. Are you okay
On your side, Joe?” “Yes,” says the boss. “Okay.”

The clean strike of the pike into the pole “That’s it!”
“Ground your pikes!”
The grounded pikes about the rising black pole, beautiful.
“Ed, you’d better get under here with me!” “I’m
Under!”

“That’s it!”
“Ground your pikes!”

Joe says, “Now, boys, don’t heave
Too hard—we’ve got her—but you, Ed, you and Mike,
You’ll have to hold her from underneath while Bill
Shifts his pike—she wants to fall downhill;
We’ve got her all right, but we’ve got her on a slight
Slant.”
“That’s it!”—”Mike,
About six feet lower this time.”
“That’s it!”

“Ground your pikes!”

One by one the pikes are moved about the pole, more beautiful
Than coloured ribbons weaving.

The clean strike of the pike into the pole; each man
Depending on the skill
And the balance, both of body and of mind,
Of each of the others: in the back of each man’s mind
The respect for the pole: it is forty feet high, and weighs
Two thousand pounds.

In the front of each man’s mind: “She’s going to go
Exactly where we want her to go: this pole
Is going to go into that seven-foot hole we dug
For her
To stand in.”

This was in the deepening dusk of a July night.
They were putting in the poles: bringing the electric light.