Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE BLIZZARD, by EUGENE FITCH WARE Poet's Biography First Line: The fiddler was improvising Last Line: "the river will reach the sea!" Alternate Author Name(s): Ironquill Subject(s): Cowboys | ||||||||
The fiddler was improvising, At times he would cease to play, Then shutting his eyes He sang and sang, in a wild ecstatic way; Then ceasing his song, he whipped and Whipped the strangs with his frantic bow, Releasing impatient music, Alternately loud and low; Then wilting and reeling, He sang as if he were dreaming aloud; And wrapped the frenzied music Around him like a shroud; And this is the strange refrain, Which he sang in a minor key: "No matter how long the river, The river will reach the sea!" It was midnight at the Cimarron Not many a year ago; The blizzard was whirling pebbles and sand And billows of frozen snow. He sat on a bale of harness, In a dougout roofed with clay; The wolves overhead bewailed In a dismal protracted way; They peeped down the adobe chimney, And quarreled and sniffed and clawed, But the fiddler kept on with his music As the blizzard stalked abroad; And time and again, that strange refrain Came forth in a minor key: "No matter how long the river, The river will reach the sea!" Around him on boxes and barrels, Uncharmed by the fiddler's tune, The herders were drinking and Betting their cartridges on vantoon, And once in a while, a player, In spirit of reckless fun, Would join in the fiddler's music And fire off the fiddler's gun. An old man sat on a sack of corn And stared with a vacant gaze; He had lost his hopes in the Gypsum Hills, And he thought of the olden days. The tears fell fast when the strange refrain Came forth in a minor key: "No matter how long the river, The river will reach the sea!" At morning the tempest ended, And the sun came back once more; The old, old man of the Gypsum Hills Had gone to the smokey shore. They chopped him a grave in the frozen ground Where the morning sunlight fell; With a restful look he held In his hand an invisible asphodel. They filled up the grave, and each herder Said good-by, till the Judgement Day. But the filddler stayed, and he sang and played, As the herders walked away A requiem in a lonesome land, In a mournful minor key: "No matter how long the river, The river will reach the sea!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HOMESICK COWBOY by EARL ALONZO BRININSTOOL THE MOVIE PICTURE COWBOY by EARL ALONZO BRININSTOOL AT THE COWBOY PANEL by EDWARD DORN PLATE 134. BY EAKINS. 'A COWBOY IN THE WEST ...' by DAVID FERRY BACKDROP ADDRESSES COWBOY by MARGARET ATWOOD LLANO VAQUEROS by JIMMY SANTIAGO BACA COLORADO MORTON'S RIDE by LEONARD BACON (1887-1954) HE AND SHE by EUGENE FITCH WARE |
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