Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE EDGE OF DOOM, by ALICE CARY Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Heartsick, homeless, weak, and weary Last Line: Even as leah, to the land. Subject(s): Women; Homeless; Grief | ||||||||
HEART - SICK, homeless, weak, and weary, On the edge of doom she stands, Fighting back the wily Tempter With her trembling woman's hands. On her lip a moan of pleading, In her eyes a look of pain, Men and women, men and women, Shall her cry go up in vain? On the edge of doom and darkness -- Darker, deeper than the grave -- Off with pride, that devil's virtue! While there yet is time to save, Clinging for her life, and shrinking Lower, lower from your frown: Men and women, men and women, Will you, can you, crowd her down? On that head, so early faded, Pitiless the rains have beat; Famine down the pavements tracked her By her bruised and bleeding feet. Through the years, sweet old Naomi, Lead her in the gleaner's way; Boaz, oh, command your young men To reproach her not, I pray. Face to face with shame and insult Since she drew her baby-breath, Were it strange to find her knocking At the cruel door of death? Were it strange if she should parley With the great arch-fiend of sin? Open wide, O gates of mercy, Wilder, wider! -- let her in! Ah! my proud and scornful lady, Lapped in laces fair and fine, But for God's good grace and mercy Such a fate as hers were thine. Therefore, breaking combs of honey, Breaking loaves of snowy bread, If she ask a crumb, I charge you Give her not a stone instead. Never lullaby, sung softly, Made her silken cradle stir; Never ring of gay young playmates Opened to make room for her! Therefore, winds, sing up your sweetest, Rocking lightly on the leaves; And, O reapers, careless reapers, Let her glean among your sheaves! Never mother, by her pillow, Knelt and taught her how to say, Lead me not into temptation, Give me daily bread this day. Therefore, reapers, while the cornstalks To your shining sickles lean, Drop, oh drop some golden handfuls -- Let her freely come and glean! Never mellow furrows crumbled Softly to her childish tread -- She but sowed in stony places, And the seed is choked and dead. Therefore, let her rest among you When the sunbeams fiercely shine -- Barley reapers, let her with you Dip her morsel in the wine! And entreat her not to leave you When the harvest week is o'er, Nor depart from following after, Even to the threshing-floor. But when stars through fields of shadow Shepherd in the evening gray, Fill her veil with beaten measures, Send her empty not away. Then the city round about her, As she moveth by, shall stir As it moved to meet Naomi Home from famine -- yea, for her! And the Lord, whose name is Mercy, Steadfast by your deed shall stand, And shall make her even as Rachel, Even as Leah, to the land. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONOMA FIRE by JANE HIRSHFIELD AS THE SPARKS FLY UPWARDS by JOHN HOLLANDER WHAT GREAT GRIEF HAS MADE THE EMPRESS MUTE by JUNE JORDAN CHAMBER MUSIC: 19 by JAMES JOYCE I HAVE FOLDED MY SORROWS by BOB KAUFMAN A SPINSTER'S STINT by ALICE CARY |
|