Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SUNDAY, by JAY G. SIGMUND


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

SUNDAY, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: The preacher's voice droned on and on
Last Line: Her gemless, withered hands.
Subject(s): Public Worship; Sabbath; Church Attendance; Sunday


The preacher's voice droned on and on --
My restless eyes were watching her;
She seemed athirst for platitudes
And made a patient listener
Who sat and did not stir.

Her hands were red and kitchen-scarred:
"The world is for the low and meek,"
I heard the stumbling parson say
And then a feeble wave of red
Went creeping up her cheek.

"The humble they inherit all --
Theirs be the cattle and the lands:"
She drank the hollow, booming words --
Between my stifled yawns I watched
Her gemless, withered hands.





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