Cordair Cards - Provided by Quent Cordair Fine Art
Visit our main gallery...

To add this poem to your e-card,
simply copy and paste it
into the e-card message box

    Gratitude
    by Berton Braley

    They sent me out in the wilderness to build 'em a
        power plant,
    Where there wasn't a rail in thirty miles and the trails
        were rough and scant;
    They sent me out with a trapper's map, and a husky,
        healthy gang,
    That lived and worked from day to day and let all else
        go hang.
    There wasn't a sign of a wagon road and the trail was
        a rocky track,
    And we had to take machines apart in pieces a mule
        could pack.
    So, slow and careful, we hiked along -- and gee,
        what a weary tramp,
    Till we reached the place I had planned the dam, and
        there we made our camp.

                        The sad coyotes howled
                            Like some uncanny choir,
                        And bear and wildcat prowled
                            Beyond our sleeping fire,
                        But we -- in slumber deep,
                            We lay the whole night through,
                        For men must get their sleep,
                            When they have work to do.

    The ice came down with the winter, the floods came
        down with the spring,
    And we fought with that raging river as you fight with
        a living thing.
    And we heckled the fat directors, back there in the
        busy town,
    For they kept trying to stir us up, while keeping
        expenses down.
    Whatever supplies we needed, of lumber, cement, or
        steel,
    I had to beg and pray for in many a wild appeal.
    And while we were bucking nature, in tempest and
        cold and heat,
    The fat directors wired me, "Why isn't the job
        complete?"

                        They'd fume and fuss and fret,
                            And scold and interfere,
                        While we -- we simply sweat,
                            And tried to keep up our cheer.
                        In spite of doubt, delay,
                            And fat directors, too,
                        We went right on our way,
                            For we had work to do.

    They sent me out into the wilderness to build 'em a
        power plant,
    And its running now as it ought to be, though some
        folks said "It can't!"
    And now that everything's smooth and fine, they've
        fastened a can to me,
    And they've put in a brand new graduate, with a
        nice, fresh, school degree.
    But say, it was fun while the job was on -- a regular
        man's size game!--
    For we built them a power plant, in spite of the
    bumps that came;
    So the boy is welcome to have the job, and sit in the
        office chair--
    There's a power plant in the wilderness, and I -- I put
        it there!

more poetry...
close window...

Quent Cordair Fine Art
346 Lorton Avenue, Burlingame, CA 94010
1.866.267.3247   art@cordair.com

© 1996-2006, Quent Cordair Fine Art. All rights reserved.