Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE RIFLE, by COVINGTON HALL


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE RIFLE, by                    
First Line: Tis made of hard, death-tempered steel
Last Line: The message men to tyrants speak!
Alternate Author Name(s): Ami, Covington; Ami, Covami
Subject(s): Arms & Armor; Assassination; Death; Militarism; Murder; Rifles; Social Protest; War; Weapons; Ammunition; Dead, The


'Tis made of hard, death-tempered steel,
This "right" of those that never feel;
It gleams before their altars cold,
The menace of the gods of gold.

It hisses to the slave, "Be still!"
Or wreaks assassination's will;
It bears upon its blighting breath
The message of the lords of death.

In shadowed mine and silent wood,
It stills the voice of brotherhood;
It stains with grief the mother-face;
It murders hope; it starves the race.

It frightens girlhood down the night
Where glows the baleful crimson light;
It binds the chains on baby slaves,
This death-tool in the hands of knaves.

Listen, O My Masters!

Hear me, ye who "shoot to kill,"
It may not always wreak your will!
Beware! Beware its rebel shriek—
The message men to tyrants speak!





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