WHEN I sailed out of Baltimore, With twice a thousand head of sheep, They would not eat, they would not drink, But bleated o'er the deep. Inside the pens we crawled each day, To sort the living from the dead; And when we reached the Mersey's mouth, Had lost five hundred head. Yet every night and day one sheep, That had no fear of man or sea, Stuck through the bars its pleading face, And it was stroked by me. And to the sheep-men standing near, "You see," I said, "this one tame sheep? It seems a child has lost her pet, And cried herself to sleep." So every time we passed it by, Sailing to England's slaughter-house, Eight ragged sheep-men -- tramps and thieves -- Would stroke that sheep's black nose. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MID-DAY DREAMER by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON IN THE UNDERWORLD by ISAAC ROSENBERG ASHURNATSIRPAL III by CARL SANDBURG AFTER DIVORCE; FOR NAHID SARMAD by KAREN SWENSON THE LOVE POEM by KAREN SWENSON MARCH by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS ON THE EXPECTED GENERAL RISING OF THE FRENCH NATION IN 1792 by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |