Poems (Terry, 1861)/Cain

by Rose Terry Cooke

CAIN.

Here it found me—"Where is thy brother?"
 Out of the very heavens it fell,
Sharp as a peal of rattling thunder,
 Then the echo leapt up from hell.

He—Jehovah—"Where is thy brother?"
 I knew, He knew—the devil laughed.
He that gave me the staff to fell him.
 So the archer reviled the shaft!

Oh, my brother, my brother, my brother!
 Thy blood panted and throbbed in me.
We were children of one mother,
 Little children upon her knee.

Oh, my brother, my brother, my brother!
 Sad-eyed, tender, good, and true.
Never more on hill or valley,
 Never tracked through the morning dew.

I held up the staff before me.
 Down it crashed on the gentle head.
One live look of wondering sorrow,
 One sharp quiver—that was dead.

Thou! Thou gavest me a brother—
 Gave me a life to cast away—
Hast Thou in heaven such another?
 Hast Thou in heaven a sword to slay?

Hasten Thou—"Where is thy brother?"
 Voice my curst lips dare not name.
Hasten! write with thy fiery finger
 On my forehead the murderer's shame.

I am doomed—alone forever.
 Yet, so long as the slow years part,
Thou shalt brand new Cains with curses,
 Not on the forehead, but in the heart!