Upon a farm, with soil of rust-red clay Which shows in spots like blood dried on a wound, There stand pretentious buildings for the livestock and A small frame house from which paint peels in ragged curls. A woman steals to an unkept burying plot -- Where tombstones lean, like crooked teeth, in crumbling rows -- Her body bent by pain and work like a gnarled tree Which bows before bleak winds for countless years -- And watches, furtive as a bird charmed by a snake, A sullen giant with black beard and hairy arms Which guide the plow with absent-minded skill. Maliciously he sees the woman kneeling there And stops to point with threatening gesture toward the house. The woman winces, like a suffering animal, Which quivers to the impact of the lash; She nods, her face a trembling mask of hate and fear, Then quickly lays white roses on a tiny grave And smoothes with gentle hand the stone above the mound As if she feels again a child's bright, golden head, Then turns and plods, with patient steps, toward home. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SCHOOLS OF LITTLE FISH by MARVIN BELL DOWN THE BROOK by ROBERT FROST FOR REMEMBERING HOW TO LIVE WITHOUT YOU by JAMES GALVIN A DAY IN BED by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE LAST JUDGMENT by JOHN CROWE RANSOM |