|
PYRE
PUTREFACTION
SLAUGHTER
FOOD
MAN-TRAP
DOG-TRAP
O God, take the sun
from the sky!
It's burning me, scorching me up.
God, can't You hear my cry?
Water! A poor, little cup!
It's laughing, the cursed sun!
See how it swells and swells
Fierce as a hundred hells!
God, will it never have done?
It's searing the flesh on my bones;
It's beating with hammers red
My eyeballs into my head;
It's parching my very moans.
See! It's the size of the sky,
And the sky is a torrent of fire,
Foaming on me as I lie
Here on the wire . . . the wire. . . .
Of night and of death I dream;
Night that will bring me peace,
Coolness and starry gleam,
Stillness and death's release:
From "On The Wire," by Robert W.
Service
From "Rhymes of a Red Cross Man,"
published by Barse & Co.
***
ON THE WIRE
Go to Next Page
|
