Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, GOATS, by CHARLES ERSKINE SCOTT WOOD


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GOATS, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: What I liked best in sicily
Last Line: They seek the mountain and the tumbling flood.
Subject(s): Goats; Sicily


What I liked best in Sicily
Was not cloud-making AEtna, nor the fanes
Of old Greek gods, silent in majesty
Of death, but the early fresh-milk trains
That come while borage leaves hold dew
And the starry flowers of lapis blue
Are wet with Night; herds of whimsical
Black, brown, and spotted grave she-goats,
With stare indifferent and quizzical;
Furry tassels dangling at their throats.
Nonchalantly sauntering to town,
They bite the wayside weed
With dainty, lip-selecting greed,
Skipping lightly to a wall,
Or even a house top, looking down
To mock with wag of beard the herder's call.
Through the narrow streets they pass from door to door
And full of sympathy for motherhood
Fill frothing bowls for babies of the poor,
From bulging udders, soft and round and good.
By the dripping fountain of the public square
Women wait for them, chatting the while
They squirt white jets through bottle-necks; a stair
Of stone one climbs to feed the sick; looking back to smile
A sly satiric grin of goaty guile.
Then all lie down to rest in a shadow place
Against a wall, chewing their sidewise cud
Till presently, with pretty mincing pace
They seek the mountain and the tumbling flood.





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