Black and White by Harold Henry Abbott

I met a man along the road
⁠⁠To Withernsea;
Was ever anything so dark, so pale
⁠⁠As he?
His hat, his clothes, his tie, his boots
⁠Were black as black
⁠⁠Could be,
And midst of all was a cold white face,
And eyes that looked wearily.

The road was bleak and straight and flat
⁠⁠To Withernsea,
Gaunt poles with shrilling wires their weird
⁠⁠Did dree;
On the sky stood out, on the swollen sky
⁠The black blood veins
⁠⁠Of tree
After tree, as they beat from the face
Of the wind which they could not flee.

And in the fields along the road
⁠⁠To Withernsea,
Swart crows sat huddled on the ground
⁠⁠Disconsolately,
While overhead the seamews wheeled, and skirled
⁠⁠In glee;
But the black cows stood, and cropped where they stood,
⁠⁠And never heeded thee,
O dark pale man, with the weary eyes,
⁠⁠On the road to Withernsea.

From: Walters, L D’O, The Year’s At the Spring: An Anthology of Recent Poetry, 1920, Brentano’s: New York, pp. 126-127.
(https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_year%27s_at_the_spring/Abbott,_H._H)

Date: 1920

By: Harold Henry Abbott (1891-1976)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: