 | Between Doubting and Daring |  |
I
O'er harvest hills soft haze of shimmering heat
Folds blue and dim; glows fiery sheen of wheat
At core of amber sunbeams; kindled white
The road creeps in beneath green shadow plight
Of woven branches. Here two gossips greet:
‘Good morning ma'am; sure 'tis the grand hot day.’
‘Aye, aye, too hot for our poor lads away
Off yonder in the battles where they fight.’
‘Ah, cold enough, God knows, before this night
'Tis many a one will sleep.’
Folds blue and dim; glows fiery sheen of wheat
At core of amber sunbeams; kindled white
The road creeps in beneath green shadow plight
Of woven branches. Here two gossips greet:
‘Good morning ma'am; sure 'tis the grand hot day.’
‘Aye, aye, too hot for our poor lads away
Off yonder in the battles where they fight.’
‘Ah, cold enough, God knows, before this night
'Tis many a one will sleep.’
Such talk have they
Along the footpaths flecked with leaves and light.
Along the footpaths flecked with leaves and light.
| Between Doubting and Daring | |