 | Poems by John Howard Bryant |  |
134
DROUGHT.
Not a cloud in the sky but a brassy haze,
Through which the sun glares hot and red,
Day after day, these long June days,
'Till the grass is withered and the flowers are dead.
Through which the sun glares hot and red,
Day after day, these long June days,
'Till the grass is withered and the flowers are dead.
I sit by my home and gaze away,
For some sign of rain in the burning sky—
Some mist, or cloud, or vapor gray,
Till the daylight fades on my weary eye.
For some sign of rain in the burning sky—
Some mist, or cloud, or vapor gray,
Till the daylight fades on my weary eye.
The birds that sang by my door have flown,
The bluebird, the oriole and wren,
Even the robin that steals my cherries has gone,
To the cooler shade o'er the brook in the glen.
The bluebird, the oriole and wren,
Even the robin that steals my cherries has gone,
To the cooler shade o'er the brook in the glen.
The maize plant droops in the mid day sun,
But rallies at eventide again;
Looking up to heaven when day is done,
Anxiously waiting and sighing for rain.
But rallies at eventide again;
Looking up to heaven when day is done,
Anxiously waiting and sighing for rain.
135
From the bosom of earth goes up a sigh,
From every living thing a plaint;
The leaves on the shrubs are crisp and dry,
And the mighty woods look sick and faint.
From every living thing a plaint;
The leaves on the shrubs are crisp and dry,
And the mighty woods look sick and faint.
O! for the faith and prayer of Him,
Who bowed upon Carmel's mount of yore;
When rose on the far horizon's rim,
The little cloud with its priceless store.
Who bowed upon Carmel's mount of yore;
When rose on the far horizon's rim,
The little cloud with its priceless store.
“But those times of undoubting faith are past,”
Men say, “And the age of law has come,
Trust in the Lord is waning fast,
And His prophets of power are dead or dumb.”
Men say, “And the age of law has come,
Trust in the Lord is waning fast,
And His prophets of power are dead or dumb.”
Written June, 1871.
| Poems by John Howard Bryant | |