A Child of the People And Other Poems. By James Chapman Woods |
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 | A Child of the People |  |
156
III.
I cannot send you birthday songs this year;
My heart outstrips the days of ripening grain,
Wherein your years complete their loss and gain,
And yearns in dreams the harvest shout to hear
A long moon later, when the fields are clear,
And the last corn-sheaf tops the rumbling wain;
My marriage hymn blends with their harvest-strain,
And in my life love's harvest-time is near.
My heart outstrips the days of ripening grain,
Wherein your years complete their loss and gain,
And yearns in dreams the harvest shout to hear
A long moon later, when the fields are clear,
And the last corn-sheaf tops the rumbling wain;
My marriage hymn blends with their harvest-strain,
And in my life love's harvest-time is near.
Straying to-night across such golden fields,
Fast-ripening now, sick with expectancy,
My heart sheds songs to hail your birthday morn,
But of its own fierce dye are all it yields.
When we go reaping, do not start to see
So many seeming poppies 'mid the corn.
Fast-ripening now, sick with expectancy,
My heart sheds songs to hail your birthday morn,
But of its own fierce dye are all it yields.
When we go reaping, do not start to see
So many seeming poppies 'mid the corn.
| A Child of the People | |