I was wondering if anyone was aware of the name or author of a poem called 'The Sugar House'. I think the last name is 'Jenkins', but I'm unable to find it. It's about a boy that finds a sugar house in the woods and a lonely man lives there and the boy eats sugar syrup and what not. I love the poem, I just can't find it.
Sugar House Poem... Does Anyone Know It?
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See entry #6 
(My smart-aleck reply aside, I'm glad you asked the question; I enjoyed the read. Thanks!)
(My smart-aleck reply aside, I'm glad you asked the question; I enjoyed the read. Thanks!)
I bet as a kid you were like George 'Who played with a Dangerous Toy, and suffered a Catastrophe of considerable Dimensions'.
http://holyjoe.org/poetry/belloc3.htm
http://holyjoe.org/poetry/belloc3.htm
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Poet-In-the-Hat's NOT SO SMART ALECK REPLY actually seems to have covered things with his quote about Poetry - rhyme scheme practice which contains the verse called Loneliness by Brook Jenkins
Beyond that, this sounds suspiciously like the Grimm's Fairy Tale about "Hansel and Gretel" and their trials with the Wicked Witch and her Gingerbread House, although know of NO individual that it was originally ascribed to, so I can't remark on it's being ascribed to "Jenkins. You'll have to trace that connection by yourself.
JRH
Beyond that, this sounds suspiciously like the Grimm's Fairy Tale about "Hansel and Gretel" and their trials with the Wicked Witch and her Gingerbread House, although know of NO individual that it was originally ascribed to, so I can't remark on it's being ascribed to "Jenkins. You'll have to trace that connection by yourself.
JRH
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LONELINESS
—Brooks Jenkins
I was about to go, and said so;
And I had almost started for the door.
But he was all alone in the sugar-house,
And more lonely than he'd ever been before.
We'd talked for half an hour, almost,
About the price of sugar, and how I like my school,
And he had made me drink some syrup hot,
Telling me it was better that way than when cool.
And I agreed, and thanked him for it,
And said good-bye, and was about to go.
Want to see where I was born?
He asked me quickly. How to say no?
The sugar-house looked over miles of valley.
He pointed with a sticky finger to a patch of snow
Where he was born. The house, he said, was gone.
I can understand these people better, now I know.
—Brooks Jenkins
I was about to go, and said so;
And I had almost started for the door.
But he was all alone in the sugar-house,
And more lonely than he'd ever been before.
We'd talked for half an hour, almost,
About the price of sugar, and how I like my school,
And he had made me drink some syrup hot,
Telling me it was better that way than when cool.
And I agreed, and thanked him for it,
And said good-bye, and was about to go.
Want to see where I was born?
He asked me quickly. How to say no?
The sugar-house looked over miles of valley.
He pointed with a sticky finger to a patch of snow
Where he was born. The house, he said, was gone.
I can understand these people better, now I know.
A. Hamilton
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this poem has always been a favorite of mine-I had read it in an old Scholastic boo of poems I had bought when I was about ten.