Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, DROUGHT, by MARY F. COCHRANE



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DROUGHT, by            
First Line: Oh, can't I help, poor four - legg'd, sad scarecrow?
Last Line: Your strained heart breaks here at its poor goal's brink.
Subject(s): Drought


Oh, can't I help, poor four-legg'd, sad scarecrow?
Poor parching bovine, you've no strength to low,
Nor wish to nose the now-reached water's slack!
Here, let my tender hand cup you this drink.
But, bracing, swaying, trying to look back
Where young lies prostrate as if from a throw --
Though fev'rishly in nostrils sunk I blow,
Your strained heart breaks here at its poor goal's brink.





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