@3Dactylics@1 Weary way-wanderer, languid and sick at heart, Travelling painfully over the rugged road, Wild-visaged wanderer! ah, for thy heavy chance! Sorely thy little one drags by thee bare-footed, Cold is the baby that hangs at thy bending back, Meagre and livid and screaming its wretchedness. Woe-begone mother, half anger, half agony, As over thy shoulder thou lookest to hush the babe, Bleakly the blinding snow beats in thy haggard face. Thy husband will never return from the war again, Cold is thy hopeless heart, even as Charity! -- Cold are thy famished babes, God help thee, widowed one! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ILKA BLADE O' GRASS KEPS ITS AIN DRAP O' DEW by JAMES BALLANTYNE A PRAISE OF HIS LOVE by HENRY HOWARD MRS. HARRIS'S PETITION: TO EXCELLENCIES THE LORDS JUSTICES OF IRELAND by JONATHAN SWIFT THE BROOK; AN IDYL by ALFRED TENNYSON KEEPERS OF THE SUN by DOROTHY P. ALBAUGH PLAYFORD; A DESCRIPTIVE FRAGMENT by BERNARD BARTON |