Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SERFS, by HUMBERT WOLFE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

SERFS, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Winter has planted the fields black with crows
Last Line: To make an earth that can be made a hell.
Subject(s): Birds; Dirt; Farm Life; Winter; Agriculture; Farmers


Winter has planted the fields black with crows.
In frustrate flocks they cark and scream and caw,
Plucking at furrow and frozen hill breast
For sustenance, without rest.

They caw their hunger upon the cold wind
That chaps the frosty skin of the brown earth;
They scream their hatred of hardship and strife
For mere food, mere life.

Black and bitter serfs, bound to the soil,
They hate mankind for what men take away
In overlord fashion -- never knowing how little
Fills many a pot or kettle.

Bound to the soil, with a bleak enmity
Against us, for they are reapers of reaped lands,
They cry the old cry that God does less than well
To make an earth that can be made a hell.





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