Classic Poem

I saw a hunchback climb over a hill
Carrying slops for the pigs to swill.

The snow was hard, the air was frore,
As he cast a bluish shadow before.

Over the frozen hills he came
Like one who is neither strong nor lame,

And I saw his face as he passed me by,
And the hateful look of his dead-fish eye,

His face like the face of a wrinkled child
Who has never laughed or played or smiled.

I watched him till his work was done,
And suddenly God went out of the sun,

Went out of the sun without a sound;
But the great pigs trampling the frozen ground.

The hunchback turned and retracked the snows,
But where God's gone, there's no man knows.