A poem with a lesson.

The Calf-Path
by Sam Walter Foss
(1858-1911)

I.

One day, through the primeval wood,
A calf walked home, as good calves should;


II.

But made a trail all bent askew,
A crooked trail as all calves do.
Since then three hundred years have fled,
And, I infer, the calf is dead.
But still he left behind his trail,
And thereby hangs my moral tale.
The trail was taken up next day,
By a lone dog that passed that way.
And then a wise bell-wether sheep,
Pursued the trail o'er vale and steep;
And drew the flock behind him too,
As good bell-wethers always do.
And from that day, o'er hill and glade.
Through those old woods a path was made.


III.

And many men wound in and out,
And dodged, and turned, and bent about;
And uttered words of righteous wrath,
Because 'twas such a crooked path.
But still they followed - do not laugh -
The first migrations of that calf.
And through this winding wood-way stalked,
Because he wobbled when he walked.


IV.

This forest path became a lane,
that bent, and turned, and turned again.
This crooked lane became a road,
Where many a poor horse with his load,
Toiled on beneath the burning sun,
And traveled some three miles in one.
And thus a century and a half,
They trod the footsteps of that calf.


V.

The years passed on in swiftness fleet,
The road became a village street;
And this, before men were aware,
A city's crowded thoroughfare;
And soon the central street was this,
Of a renowned metropolis;
And men two centuries and a half,
Trod in the footsteps of that calf.


VI.

Each day a hundred thousand rout,
Followed the zigzag calf about;
And o'er his crooked journey went,
The traffic of a continent.
A Hundred thousand men were led,
By one calf near three centuries dead.
They followed still his crooked way,
And lost one hundred years a day;
For thus such reverence is lent,
To well established precedent.


VII.

A moral lesson this might teach,
Were I ordained and called to preach;
For men are prone to go it blind,
Along the calf-paths of the mind;
And work away from sun to sun,
To do what other men have done.
They follow in the beaten track,
And out and in, and forth and back,
And still their devious course pursue,
To keep the path that others do.
They keep the path a sacred groove,
Along which all their lives they move.
But how the wise old wood gods laugh,
Who saw the first primeval calf!
Ah! many things this tale might teach -
But I am not ordained to preach.

Instructive indeed!

Reminds me of another story I heard once --

A young girl watched as her mother was preparing the Thanksgiving turkey. The mother cut off the tail end of the bird, about 3-4 inches, before putting it in the pot to go in the oven.

"Mom, why do you cut off part of the turkey?"

"Because your Grandmother always did it."

"Why did Grandmother do it?"

"I don't know. Go ask her."

So the little girl went into the next room and asked her grandmother why she cut off the tail end of the turkey on Thanksgiving.

"Because my mother did it. I don't really know why; call her and ask her."

So the little girl phoned up her great-grandmother with the same question.

The answer?

"Because when I was young, we were poor, and couldn't afford a nice, large oven -- so I had to cut off the tail end of the turkey to get it to fit in the oven."

This reminds me of a cause I'd take up if only I had three more lifetimes to live. let's all quit putting that apostrophy in can't, won't, and don't, so all we have to type out is cant, wont, and dont. Just think of all the time and hassle wasted on the keyboard when it doesn't make a lick of sense! Who is in charge of the apostrophe law anyway...anybody know?