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The buzz saw snarled and rattled in the yard
The buzz saw snarled and rattled in the yard And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood, Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it. And from there those that lifted eyes could count Five mountain ranges one behind the other Under the sunset far into Vermont. And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled, As it ran light, or had to bear a load. And nothing happened: day was all but done. Call it a day, I wish they might have said To please the boy by giving him the half hour That a boy counts so much when saved from work. His sister stood beside him in her apron To tell them ‘Supper.’ At the word, the saw, As if to prove saws knew what supper meant, Leaped out at the boy’s hand, or seemed to leap— He must have given the hand. However it was, Neither refused the meeting. But the hand! The boy’s first outcry was a rueful laugh, As he swung toward them holding up the hand Half in appeal, but half as if to keep The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all— Since he was old enough to know, big boy Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart— He saw all spoiled. ‘Don’t let him cut my hand off— The doctor, when he comes. Don’t let him, sister!’ So. But the hand was gone already. The doctor put him in the dark of ether. He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath. And then—the watcher at his pulse took fright. No one believed. They listened at his heart. Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it. No more to build on there. And they, since they Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.
The saw made a loud, angry noise and shook in the yard And created dust while dropping pieces of wood the size of stoves, Sweet-smelling wood when the wind blew over it. And from that spot, those who looked up could see Five mountain ranges lined up one after the other Under the sunset stretching far into Vermont. And the saw made that loud, angry noise, over and over, As it worked easily, or had to handle a heavy load. And nothing happened: the day was almost over. They should have said to end the work for the day, I wish they had To make the boy happy by giving him the extra half hour That a boy values so much when he is spared from work. His sister stood next to him in her apron To announce ‘Supper.’ At that word, the saw, As if to show that saws understood what supper meant, Jumped at the boy’s hand, or appeared to jump— He must have moved his hand. However it happened, Neither side avoided the encounter. But the hand! The boy’s first reaction was a sad laugh, As he turned toward them, raising the hand Partly in a plea, but partly as if to prevent Life from spilling out. Then the boy understood everything— Since he was old enough to comprehend, a big boy Doing an adult's work, even though still a child inside— He realized everything was ruined. ‘Don’t let them cut my hand off— The doctor, when he arrives. Don’t let them, sister!’ So. But the hand was already gone. The doctor put him under anesthesia. He lay there, puffing out his lips with his breath. And then—the person watching his pulse became alarmed. No one believed it. They listened to his heart. Little—less—nothing!—and that was the end. No more to build upon there. And they, since they Were not the one who died, returned to their own matters.