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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357983" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Reaper in the Bush</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">He was lyin' on his bunk, <br>In the hut behind the mill,<br>Ravin' like a man wild drunk,<br>Never silent, never still,<br>'Best go in an' say Good bye,'<br>Says old Blair. 'He's got to die.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">God! I never want to see<br>Any face so wrung with pain,<br>Nor to hear such blasphemy<br>Ever in my life again.<br>White he was, an' starey-eyed,<br>With his hand pressed to his side.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Now he raves,' says Daddy Pike.<br>'He ain't wise to what he says<br>Never have I heard the like<br>All me wicked livin' days.'<br>'Raise him up a bit,' says Blair.<br>'Put that pillow under there.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Raise him. . . . There now, easy, lad.<br>Turn a little - gently - so.<br>You'll not feel it near so bad. . . .<br>Painin'? Yes, I know, I know.<br>Yes, old man; it's Blair, your friend. . . .<br>(Boys, he's very near the end.')</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Soon a saner, calmer look<br>Came in Murray's strainin' eyes.<br>Though his body heaved an' shook,<br>He held back his awful cries<br>Till another wave of pain<br>Gripped him, an' he shrieked again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Christ!' he called. 'O, Christ, the pain!<br>Boys, you know I ain't a funk.'<br>Still he took the Name in vain,<br>Writhin' there upon his bunk.<br>'Do you call him?' says old Blair.<br>Pointin' upward. 'He is there.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Blair!' he gasps. 'Do you believe?<br>Such as me! Is there a chance?'<br>'Easy, Murray. Don't you grieve.<br>You ain't worth a single glance<br>Save of pity from His eye.<br>Laddie, pray before you die.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'God! I'm frightened, Blair!' says he . . .<br>'Boys, you know I never whined. . . .<br>Where's the hope for one like me?<br>I ain't no hymn-singin' kind.'<br>There was pleadin' in his glance:<br>'Blair,' says he, 'is there a chance?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Old Bob Blair reached for his hand.<br>'Chance there is, an' certainty.<br>Try to think an' understand.<br>Nothin's There to fear,' says he.<br>'Him, the Merciful, the Mild,<br>Think ye He would strike a child? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Think ye that he put you here,<br>Gave you labour, gave you pain,<br>So your end should be fear<br>That you plead to Him in vain?<br>Nay, dear laddie, while you've breath,<br>Live in hope, an' smile on death.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With a hard hand, woman-kind,<br>He pushed back the sweaty hair.<br>'Now then, laddie, ease your mind,<br>Pain will end for you out There. . . .'<br>An' the smile on Blair's rough face<br>Was a blessin' an' a grace.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'God!' says Ben, 'You are a friend:<br>Friend, old man, an' father too.<br>Hold my hand right to the end <br>They'll take notice There of you. . . . <br>Good-bye, Jim, an' Dusty Dick,<br>Simon, Pike. . . .I'm goin' - quick.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With his eyes shut tight he lay,<br>His breath comin' in great sobs.<br>An' his poor lips seemed to pray,<br>As his hand held fast to Bob's. . . .<br>Now his sobs an' prayin' cease.<br>Says old Blair, 'God give him peace!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Give him peace!' sighed old Bob Blair,<br>As he rose beside the dead.<br>But I caught his wistful stare,<br>An' the muttered words he said:<br>'God,' he prayed - 'if one there be -<br>Give such faith an' peace to me.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Clarence+Michael+James+Stanislaus+Dennis">Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357983" data-title="The Reaper in the Bush de Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis" data-description="He was lyin' on his bunk, 
In the hut behind the mill,
Ravin' like a man wild drunk,
Never silent, never still,
'Best go in an' say Good bye,'
Says old Blair. 'He's got to die.'

God! I never want to see
Any face so wrung with pain,
Nor to hear su..."></div>
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