Farm ballads :: :: University of Virginia Library

101

The clang of the Yankee reaper,
On Salisbury Plain!
A music sweeter—deeper—
Than many a nobler strain.

Across that British prairie
I tramped, one summer day;
The breeze was free and merry—
White lamb-clouds were at play;

With fleecy wealth was teeming
The shepherd's paddock fold;
And ripened grain stood gleaming
Like lakes of melted gold;

Far off were grimly looming
Stonehenge's mystery-piles;
Beneath the feet were blooming
A floweret's modest smiles;

And nature's wondrous being
The gladdened eye possessed;
But what is cheery of seeing,
When the heart is ill at rest?

For deep waves of emotion
Had all that day prevailed,
And over the cold blue ocean
My sad heart swiftly sailed.

102

Across the cold sea sailing,
My dreary memory roved;
Sweet old-time scenes unveiling,
With true friends, fondly loved;

And brought back many a feeling
That long had dwelt apart,
Till through my life came stealing
The pangs of a homesick heart.

And never the sea's wide reaches
Seemed half the fathoms o'er,
Or the West-land's shining beaches
So far away before.

When, richer, sweeter, deeper
Than a distant music strain,
Came the clang of the Yankee reaper
On Salisbury Plain!

As when the heart is weeping
'Neath slowly crushing hours,
The fragrance soft comes creeping
Of memory-hallowed flowers;

As when, with sudden gleaming,
Above some foreign dome,
Against the sky goes streaming
The flag of our nation-home;

So from my heart the sadness
In silence gently stole,
And rich new strains of gladness
Came thrilling through my soul.