 | Early and late poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
176
THE TWO MOWERS.
I know not what brings back to-day
A scene of the long ago,
When, all betwixt the blue and the gray,
Two mowers came to mow.
A scene of the long ago,
When, all betwixt the blue and the gray,
Two mowers came to mow.
About the scythes that cut their path
The dewdrops fell in showers,
And every long and luminous swath
They swung, was mixed with flowers.
The dewdrops fell in showers,
And every long and luminous swath
They swung, was mixed with flowers.
Here ivies sweet and tufted crows
Lie low beneath their tread;
And there the slender neck of a rose
Without her royal head.
Lie low beneath their tread;
And there the slender neck of a rose
Without her royal head.
Swish! swish! and neither heeds nor spares
The pansy freaked with jet,
Nor she that sad embroidery wears,
Nor the milky violet.
The pansy freaked with jet,
Nor she that sad embroidery wears,
Nor the milky violet.
Swish! then a pause, and then another swath,
And a zigzag line is seen;
And in betwixt them, on the path,
A turf of sheltering green.
And a zigzag line is seen;
And in betwixt them, on the path,
A turf of sheltering green.
We children could not keep away,
But ran with skip and bound,
To find on her nest of sticks and clay
A bird so safe and sound.
But ran with skip and bound,
To find on her nest of sticks and clay
A bird so safe and sound.
177
Her back as smooth and brown as a mouse,
And her wing of a ruddy glow,
Like the roof and hearthstone of the house
Whence the mowers came to mow.
And her wing of a ruddy glow,
Like the roof and hearthstone of the house
Whence the mowers came to mow.
How fixed the day in memory stands!
And the time of the day, for then,
We that had called them only hands
Began to call them men!
And the time of the day, for then,
We that had called them only hands
Began to call them men!
We made our hands with raking rough—
And the winds they kissed us brown;
And the shaggy beards grew fair enough
Before the sun was down.
And the winds they kissed us brown;
And the shaggy beards grew fair enough
Before the sun was down.
For we knew that deep in the hearts of both
True love had been the guest,
That made them cut the zigzag swath,
And spare the lowly nest.
True love had been the guest,
That made them cut the zigzag swath,
And spare the lowly nest.
| Early and late poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |