Archive for January 21st, 2014

Tuesday, 21 January 2014

The Alphabet of Drought by Emily Mary Barton

All these months of heat and drought,
Baked within, and burnt without;
Cattle dying in our regions,
Drifts of dust and insect legions;
Every pool a mass of mire.
Fogs that mock each morn’s desire;
Groups of clouds, suggesting rain,
Heaven-attracted, off again;
I, one cheerful plant have seen,
Just as ever bright and green;
Keeping still its steady bloom,
Lightsome leaf and keen perfume—
My morning shower, treasured well,
Never upon its leaflets fell;
On fern and fuchsia all was shed,
Perchance to save them; they are dead.
Quiescent Nature lies asleep.
Refusing o’er their dust to weep;
So that my heart was faint with grief,
Till, musing o’er that shining leaf,
Untiring, ever-spreading root,
Virtue-laden flow’r and fruit;
With types of love and trust combined.
Xylographed my anxious mind—
Yes, like thee I would endure,
Zygophillum, the brave and pure.


Date: 1882

By: Emily Mary Barton (1817-1909)