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THE BLACKBERRY PICKER, by                    
First Line: Just as the sun begins to tint
Last Line: And makes his simple trade.
Subject(s): Blackberries; Farm Life; Agriculture; Farmers


Just as the sun begins to tint
The east pale-pink and gold,
The blackberry picker leaves his bed,
And carrying in each hand an old
Tin bucket, goes down along creek bottoms,
Where his approaching footstep hushes
The waking song of cardinals and thrushes.
And there, where trees breath out deep silence,
And water makes low talking sounds,
He fills his buckets to the brims,
And then, to heaped-up mounds.
And when the sun has reached its zenith,
And hangs there, as if caught,
In blazing fury, with no impatience,
And seemingly without a thought
Of hurry, he walks the village streets
Until he reaches wide verandas,
Shaded by crepe-myrtles, and oleanders,
And there puts down his winy berries
Beside the door in the cool shade,
And mops his brow, and rings the bell,
And makes his simple trade.





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