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Analysis and comments on The Ride by Richard Wilbur

Comment 1 of 1, added on October 25th, 2012 at 10:04 AM.
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Tomorrow every house is a slaughter house:

The dream of Abraham is lingering;
Not in Ishmael’s neck and the stone,
I hear it in the sheep shaking bone,
Into the eyes the black wind is blown,
In vans and ships and trains cramming of the fleece,
Inside the beat of hearts and the breath of peace,
And the jovial kids are priding on the horn,
As in little souls is the germinating thorn,
And the father rushing to the blacksmith,
Sharpen knives and hatches, they assist the teeth.
In the feast of blood and no whisper of remorse!
For tomorrow every house is a slaughter house!
Altair Laahad (All Rights Reserved)


Altair Laahad

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Information about The Ride

Poet: Richard Wilbur
Poem: The Ride
Added: Apr 28 2005
Viewed: 3687 times
Poem of the Day: Oct 25 2012


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