View this email on a browser Forward to a friend March 31, 2019   Nothing To Do   James Ephraim McGirt

The fields are white,     The laborers are few; Yet say the idle,     There's nothing to do.   Jails are crowded,     In Sunday Schools few; We still complain     There's nothing to do.   Drunkards are dying,     Your sons, it is true; Mothers' arms folded,     With nothing to do.   Heathens are dying,     Their blood falls on you; How can you people     Find nothing to do?            This poem is in the public domain. About This Poem   "Nothing To Do" was published in Avenging the Maine, A Drunken A. B. and Other Poems (Edwards and Broughton, 1899).   James Ephraim McGirt was born in Robeson County, North Carolina, in 1874. His books include Some Simple Songs and A Few More Ambitious Attempts (George F. Lasher, 1901) and Avenging the Maine, A Drunken A. B. and Other Poems (Edwards and Broughton, 1899). He died on June 3, 1930, in Greensboro, North Carolina. Poetry by Poet   Avenging the Maine, A Drunken A. B. and Other Poems (Leopold Classic Library, 2016) "Six O'clock" by Trumbull Stickney "The Whistle" by Yusef Komunyakaa "Odd Jobs" by Jericho Brown March Guest Editor: Maggie Smith   Thanks to Maggie Smith, author of Good Bones (Tupelo Press, 2017), who curated Poem-a-Day for this month's weekdays. Read a Q&A with Smith about her curatorial approach this month and find out more about our guest editors for the year. Thanks for being a part of the Academy of American Poets community. To learn about other programs, including National Poetry Month, Poem in Your Pocket Day, the annual Poets Forum, and more, visit Poets.org.   You are receiving this e-mail because you elected to subscribe to our mailing list. If you would like to unsubscribe, please click here.   © Academy of American Poets 75 Maiden Lane, Suite 901, New York, NY 10038