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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=390171" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sheep-Killer</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I should have known, when I undid his chain,<br>That darkness had been busy at his brain<br>As at an anvil, sharpening a fang. <br>I should have known it by the glint that sprang<br>Into his eyes when the chain fell and he<br>Stood stiffly there, as though to let me see<br>That he had all the time in the world to spare,<br>If I so felt, to match me stare for stare,<br>His heart being innocent.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I watched him go<br>Out through the gate with just the slightest show<br>Of hurry in his trot, as though he kept<br>His body back from where his thoughts leapt<br>Ahead to the red kill; that holding back<br>A dog will never show unless the track<br>He follows is a secret he would keep <br>From men whose fingers smell of lambs and sheep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I should have known, had I but had the eye,<br>That strain in hip and curving flank and thigh<br>For what must happen in a hawk's neck when<br>He spots the quail way down there, but with men<br>Too near in yard or paddock to make safe<br>The whistling lunge; the tension of that chafe<br>That is when lust has the red tongue on fire<br>But cunning is the muzzle on desire. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So he went slowly till I lost him quite<br>In the thick fog that made another night<br>Over the paddocks where beneath the trees<br>The lambs would be hard at it on their knees<br>Draining the heavy udders. In that fog<br>A lamb would learn the coming of a dog<br>Too late even to get upon its feet, <br>Or in one wild and lost and desperate bleat<br>To say that death was hard and life was sweet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He got his fifty in a mile that day, <br>Crunched through the shoulders in the killer's way,<br>Ribs broken in to crush the leaping heart.<br>Though great my loss, I recognized the art<br>With which the thing was done. What speed, what power,<br>He must have known for that one breathless hour,<br>When long restraint was straw before the urge<br>Of instinct, the red longing, the hot surge<br>That leapt and thundered and would not be still<br>Till fifty lambs lay dead about the hill!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He always liked to work the sheep close in,<br>Sniffing the blood, no doubt, beneath the skin<br>He dared not tear because of watching eyes.<br>Why did I trust that shifty compromise!<br>Why must sheep stand, by fear together drifted,<br>Helpless as flowers when the scythe is lifted!<br>Who was at fault, the dog, or I, or the sheep?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But since a farmer needs must have his sleep,<br>That night I put a bullet in his head,<br>Gave the world back to God, and went to bed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ernest+G+Moll">Ernest G Moll</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=390171" data-title="Sheep-Killer de Ernest G Moll" data-description="I should have known, when I undid his chain,
That darkness had been busy at his brain
As at an anvil, sharpening a fang. 
I should have known it by the glint that sprang
Into his eyes when the chain fell and he
Stood stiffly there, as though to le..."></div>
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