Classic and Contemporary Poetry
COMFORTERS, by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN Poet's Biography First Line: Raw april came. The snow was melting fast Last Line: In the old english fashion. Subject(s): Pilgrimages & Pilgrims | ||||||||
RAW April came. The snow was melting fast From the bleak Plymouth hills. The Mayflower, Who had been fretting at her anchor-chains Through the unfriendly weeks of rain and snow, Flew like a homing pigeon out to sea, With treacherous captain and a sulky crew. But not one of the Faithful was returning. Iron of purpose, worn but undismayed By the fell winter, on a little hill That bedded half the flock in a long sleep, Pale Pilgrims watched the shining sails grow dim, With straining vision. So, the final link With home was severed now! The happy ship Was homeward bound to the beloved land, Where soon the may would blossom in the hedges Of Kent and Suffolk; while in Lincolnshire The friendly robin sang by flooding tides. "Never again to see the green of England Or hear that song!" they murmured. "Never again! For us sad exiles on a barren shore, Sorrow and toil till death, uncomforted. Yet the Lord's will be done!" Running there came A little maid with treasure-trove in hand, A flushed and furry blossom. "Look!" she cried, "The first pink posy peeping through the snow Upon a sunny hillside in the wood! Is it not like the precious English may, But sweeter still?" "Behold, the mayflower!" The Pilgrims whispered. "God has sent to us A messenger of homeland and the spring!" The wistful shadow faded from their eyes, Their set lips softened. Came a little lad, Leaping and laughing. "I have heard a song! A redbreast bubbling in the willow-tree Caroled 'Cheer up! Cheer up!' See where he flies With his bright feathers!" Eagerly they peered, Elder and Captain, man and weary wife, Orphans with little faces pinched and pale. Forgetting now the vanished ship, they cried -- "The robin and the mayflower are here! Now in New England shall we be at home, God wills it so." Thereon they shyly smiled, Straightened bent shoulders, and with lifted hearts Slowly departed; thinking more than speaking In the old English fashion. | Discover our poem explanations - click here!Other Poems of Interest...THE HOURS; FOR INGRID ERHARDT, 1951-1971 by NORMAN DUBIE THE MOTHS: 1. CIRCA 1582 by NORMAN DUBIE THE MOTHS: 1. CIRCA 1952 by NORMAN DUBIE GOAL by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE PILGRIM by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE PILGRIM [SONG], FR. THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS by JOHN BUNYAN UP-HILL by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI AT ELLIS ISLAND by MARGARET LIVINGSTON CHANLER ALDRICH FAREWELL TO THE PILGRIMS by THEODORE M. BAKKE THE PILGRIM by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |
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