Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MEANWHILE, by EDWIN FORD PIPER


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

MEANWHILE, by                    
First Line: The august sun had still two hours of sky
Last Line: How ease the watching of her wide-stretched eyes?


The August sun had still two hours of sky
When the white flag a-flutter from the house
Signalled him in to find his wife at watch
At the boy's bed. He laid his calloused hand
Lightly on that soft face now fever flushed.
"Much worse," she said.

"Yes, much worse. I'll ride Jeff
Cross-country, try to borrow a saddle horse
At Campbell's. If the doctor is at home --
Get there by one, to-night, and home again
In the morning, maybe eight, at most by nine."
His rough lips touched the boy who moaned and stirred.

The sweating plough-horse changed from jolting trot
To clumsy gallop, soon was winded, fell
Back to a walk, gained breath and galloped on.
At Campbell's ranch few words. They learned his need,
Saddled the pony, promised to relay
The doctor's team in the morning. It was ride.
When sunset came the man was galloping
On gentle prairie. Soon he dropped from the ridge,
Picking a way down canyon banks to follow
In the chill dusk of the draw a winding mile;
Then stiff ascent and upland track. The sky
Afar off held its tender sunset hues,
Slow fading. One by one the big white stars
Budded and blossomed. Sometimes prairie owls
Gave chuckling notes and made dim fluttering.
The balm of cooling dews healed all the air,
And ripening grass was fragrant, and late flowers,
While from the wheeling stars a gentle glow
Fell on the prairies like a luminous veil.
The vast plain's prayer was answered utterly.

As the dusk gathered in the little room
The woman still could see the pillow white,
And the child's tousled hair in outline dark
About his face. He broke from out his sleep
Babbling of strange wild fancies; hardly knew
At times, his name, her kindness. Lest the dark
Loose more disorder in his wits, she brought
A lighted lamp and sang old ballad songs
In a soft voice that won him ease again,
And quiet breathings. She could hear the clock
Lag noisily, and from the distant draws
The shrill wail of the coyote, and close by
The creaking misery of some cricket-thing.
Minutes seemed hours. She would try to read.
She got her Bible, but the tears came fast.
Try praying: surely there is help in prayer
That the boy should recover, that her man
Might find the doctor ready. She can see
As in a living vision the sunshine,
The doctor's rattling buggy racing up
In time.

In time? Thus praying, a slight noise
Led her eyes to the door. She saw it move,
Open, and a strange, dirty face looked in
Bristling with thickets of wild, brush-like beard.
How her heart did beat! She did not rise nor scream,
But with a finger at her lip, said, "Hush.
My boy is sick, out of his head, indeed,
And must not see you. It might make him die.
So leave us. Maybe you are hungry. Look
In the cupboard, you will find some bread and meat,
And coffee on the stove. Go, wash and eat."
Came a low "Thank ye," and the door went shut.
She turned to where the clock hands pointed ten.
There would be minutes while the tramp would eat, --
This outcast fifty miles from the grading camps
Meant anything. She could not think nor move,
A chill so numbed her, weakening every pulse.
But something somehow steadied all her tone
When the door opened once more, and the voice
Asked, "Is there only you?"

"My husband's gone
For the doctor, and should be here even now.
Hush, the boy's waking. Go to the pump, and bring
Cold water for the headcloths. Put the bucket
Upon the table. In the shed you will find
Fresh hay and blankets."

He was gone. Once more
The sweet voice crooning low the ballad tune
Without a tremble or any sign of fear
Mastered the boy's wild fancies, brought him rest.
She listened to the clock, and hours went by;
She looked out to the stars, and hours went by;
At last a grayness, light grew, dawn increased, --
In two more hours. At nine o'clock they came
In time and happily.

How like a tale,
Or a heart-breaking dream the afterwards!
But while death's presence from the noiseless dark
Saturates all the air of some child's room
Where the mother prays for one more breath unharmed --
Meanwhile -- how measure her agony of fear?
How ease the watching of her wide-stretched eyes?





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