Madison Julius Cawein (Мэдисон Джулиус Кавейн)

A Belgian Christmas

The "happy year" of 1914
AN hour from dawn:
The snow sweeps on
As it swept with sleet last night:
The Earth around
Breathes never a sound,
Wrapped in its shroud of white.
A waked cock crows
Under the snows;
Then silence.— After while
The sky grows blue,
And a star looks through
With a kind o' bitter smile.
A whining dog;
An axe on a log,
And a muffled voice that calls:
A cow's long low;
Then footsteps slow
Stamping into the stalls.
A bed of straw
Where the wind blows raw
Through cracks of the stable door:
A child's small cry,
A voice nearby,
That says, "One mouth the more."
A different note
In a man's rough throat
As he turns at an entering tread —
Satyrs! see!
"My woman — she
Was brought last night to bed!"
A cry of "Halt!"—
"Ach! ich bin kalt!"
"A spy!"—"No."—"That is clear!
There's a good shake-down
I' the jail in town —
For her!" —And then, "My orders here."
A shot, sharp-rolled
As the clouds unfold:
A scream; and a cry forlorn…
Clothed red with fire,
Like the Heart's Desire,
Look down the Christmas Morn.
The babe with light
Is haloed bright,
And it is Christmas Day:
A cry of woe;
Then footsteps slow,
And the wild guns, far away.

1. In the Mountains
2. The Iron Cross
3. Above the Vales
4. Communicants
5. By the Annisquam

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1209

Последние стихотворения

To English version