Abel+Melveny

=Abel Melveny=

= = = = =I brought every kind of machine that's known-= =Ginders,shellers,planters,mowers,= =Mills and rakes and ploughs and threshers-= =And all of them stood in the rain and sun= =Getting rusted, warped and batterd,= =For I had no sheds to store them in,= =And no use for most of them.= =And toward the last, when i thought it was over,= =About myself as my pulse slowed down,= =And looked at one of the mills I bought-= =Which I didn't have the slightest need of,= =As things turned out,= =And I never ran-= =A fine machine, once brightly varnished,= =And eager to do its work,= =Now with its paint washed off-= =I saw myself as a good machine= =That life had never used.=