Poem for 3/28/23 - The Red Cow Is Dead by E.B. White

                     

E.B. White and his dachshund Minnie contemplate the death of the Red Cow.

                      The Red Cow Is Dead

by E.B. White

Isle of Wight (AP) -- Sir Hanson Rowbotham's favorite Red Polled cow is dead. Grazing in the lush pastures of the Wellow Farm, she was bitten on the udder by an adder. -- The Herald Tribune.

Toll the bell, fellow,

This is a sad day at Wellow:

Sir Hanson's cow is dead,

His red cow,

Bitten on the udder by an adder.

Spread the bad news! What is more sudden, 

What sadder than udder stung by adder?

He's never been madder, Sir Hanson Rowbotham.

The Red Polled cow is dead.

The grass was lush at very last, 

And the snake (a low sneak)

Passed, hissed, 

Struck.

Now a shadow goes across the meadow,

Wellow lies fallow.

The red cow is dead, and the stories go round.

"Bit in the teat by a dog in a fit."

"A serpent took Sir Hanson's cow--

A terrible loss, a king's ransom."

A blight has hit Wight:

The lush grass, the forked lash, the quick gash 

Of adder, torn bleeding udder,

The cow laid low,

The polled cow dead, the bell not yet tolled 

(A sad day at Wellow), 

Sir Hanson's cow,

Never again to freshen, never again

Bellow with passion

A ruminant in death's covenant,

Smitten, bitten, gone.

Toll the bell, young fellow! (1946)