 | The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman |  |
225
THE REAPERS
Milo and BattusMILO.
But come now, down with the harvest!
Strike up also, I pray, a sweetheart song of the maiden;
Thus will you work more lightly:—I think you used to be tuneful.
BATTUS
(sings).
“Sing with me, O Pierian Muses, the lass that is lissome;
For ye make all things fair, whatever ye touch, ye Divine Ones!
For ye make all things fair, whatever ye touch, ye Divine Ones!
“Graceful Bombýcê, they call you a Syrian, scrawny and sunburnt,—
All but me, who alone pronounce you the color of honey.
All but me, who alone pronounce you the color of honey.
“Ay, and the violet 's dark, and the hyacinth wearing its letters:
None the less, for all that, are they sorted first in the garlands.
None the less, for all that, are they sorted first in the garlands.
“She-goats hunt for the clover, the wolf goes after the she-goat,
After the plough the crane,—but I 've gone raving for you, love!
After the plough the crane,—but I 've gone raving for you, love!
“Would that mine were as much as Crœsus, they say, was possessed of;
Then should we twain, in gold, be set up before Aphrodite;
Then should we twain, in gold, be set up before Aphrodite;
226
“You with a—yes, with a flute, and a rose, or, maybe, an apple;
I, with new Amyclæan shoes, and a robe in the fashion.
I, with new Amyclæan shoes, and a robe in the fashion.
“Graceful Bombýcê, your feet are pretty as dice that twinkle;
Soft is your voice; but your manner,—I have no words to express it!”
Soft is your voice; but your manner,—I have no words to express it!”
MILO.
Look you, the lad has been sly, composing us elegant ditties:
See how well he has measured the form of his even rhythm!
See how well he has measured the form of his even rhythm!
O this beard of mine, which I seem to have grown to no purpose!
But, to go on, now hear these words of the sage Lytiersês:
But, to go on, now hear these words of the sage Lytiersês:
“O Dêmêter, abounding in fruit and ears of the harvest,
Well may this field be worked and yield a crop beyond measure!
Well may this field be worked and yield a crop beyond measure!
“Hard, bind hard, ye binders, the sheaves, lest ever a passer
Say, ‘These men are poor sticks, and their pay is cash out of pocket.’
Say, ‘These men are poor sticks, and their pay is cash out of pocket.’
“Toward the north-wind let your swath of grain in the cutting
Look, or else to the west, for thus the ear will grow fuller.
Look, or else to the west, for thus the ear will grow fuller.
“Threshers, threshing the corn, should shun the slumbers of noonday;
That is the very hour when the chaff flies off from the wheat-stalk.
That is the very hour when the chaff flies off from the wheat-stalk.
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“Reapers, begin your toil when the tuft-lark soars from the meadow:
Cease when he sleeps: besides, in the heat of the day take your leisure.
Cease when he sleeps: besides, in the heat of the day take your leisure.
“Give me a frog's life, boys! he needs, to pour out his tipple,
No cup-bearer, not he, for't is up to his mouth all around him.
No cup-bearer, not he, for't is up to his mouth all around him.
“Better to boil the lentil, you'll find it, niggardly steward:
Ware lest you cut your hand in making two halves of a cummin.”
Ware lest you cut your hand in making two halves of a cummin.”
Staves like these 't is fit that men at work in the sunshine
Troll; but, lad, 't were better to prate of your starveling passion
Unto your mother awake in her bed at break of the morning.
Troll; but, lad, 't were better to prate of your starveling passion
Unto your mother awake in her bed at break of the morning.
| The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman | |