At sunset in the village of Che-Kao I sought for shelter; on my heels there trod A grim recruiting sergeant, of the kind That seize their prey by night. A poor old man Saw -- scaled the wall, and vanished. Through the gate An old bent woman hobbled, and she marched A pace before him. Loudly in his wrath The grim recruiter stormed; and bitterly She answered: "Listen to the voice of her Who drags before you. Once I had three sons -- Three in the Emperor's camp. A letter came From one, and -- there was one; the others fell In the same battle -- he alone was left, Scarce able from the iron grasp of Death To tear his miserable life. Alas My two dead boys! for ever and for aye Death holds them. In our wretched hut remains The last of all the men -- a little child, Still at his mother's breast. She cannot flee, Since her few tatters scarce suffice to clothe Her shrunken limbs. My years are nearly done, My strength is well-nigh spent; yet I will go Readily to the camping-ground. Perchance I may be useful for some humble task, To cook the rice or stir the morning meal." . . . . . Night slipped away. The clamour and the cries Died down; but there was weeping and the sound Of stifled moans around me. At the break Of dawn I hurried on my road, and left None but an old and broken man behind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ORANGE PICKER by DAVID IGNATOW TO TIME by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE GARDEN OF ADONIS by EMMA LAZARUS STUDY FOR A GEOGRAPHICAL TRAIL; 4. NEW JERSEY by CLARENCE MAJOR DOMESDAY BOOK: AT FAIRBANKS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: IPPOLIT KONOVALOFF by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |