The Meeting

The ox-team and the automobile Stood face to face on the long red road, The long red road was narrow At the turn of the hill, And below was the sun-dancing river Afoam over the rocks. The mild-mannered beasts stood par, chewing their cud. The stubble-bearded man from the mountains, Rustier than his wagon, Unmoving eyed the proud chauffeur. The little ragged girl, With sun-bleached hair, Sitting on a ahrd, yellow-powdrey bag, Looked across at the smart motor hats of the ladies, And their chiffon scarfs That the light breeze fingered. The proud chauffeur blew his horn, But nothing moved- Except the foaming, sun-dancing river down below. Then he jerked his head, And turned the wheel, And slowly, carefully, The automobile moved back over the long red road. And the mild-mannered beasts lifted their feet, And the stubble-bearded man flipped his rein, Ad the ragged little girl looked ahead up the hill, And the ox-team lumbered and limped over the long red road.