Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SCOURGE, by JAY G. SIGMUND



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

SCOURGE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: He has built a pyre on his feed-lot hill
Last Line: And he is wordless like his creature dead.
Subject(s): Prayer


He has built a pyre on his feed-lot hill --
Its rancid smoke sends ribbons to the sky;
What solace can be offered now to him
Who finds his dreams all shattered by a scourge
Which flung its curse upon his barn and sty?

Were this the year's first plague he might be brought
To see that sun above his wind-break's crest,
But since the drifts turned mist in early spring
It seems some evil charm of death has worked
Until it choked the hope within his breast.

One needs abundant faith to tide him through
The span of snow-days when the fields are wrapped,
But if his herds are thinned when seed-time comes
And he must spade deep graves at foaling time
His heart is sickened and his soul is sapped.

Now after toiling down the parching rows
All summer through with furrow-weary tread,
He hears in answer to his whispered prayers
No sound of clicking hoofs about his pens,
And he is wordless like his creature dead.





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