Amenophis and Other Poems Sacred and Secular by Francis T. Palgrave |
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XXXAN AUTUMN SONG
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 | Amenophis and Other Poems Sacred and Secular |  |
198
XXX
AN AUTUMN SONG
TO EUGENIA
Summer hay and harvest
Come and gone again:
Ah! the months are measured
By the yellow wain!
As the stately cargoes
Down the valley sway;
Golden wheat-sheaf mountains,
Hills of scented hay.
Come and gone again:
Ah! the months are measured
By the yellow wain!
As the stately cargoes
Down the valley sway;
Golden wheat-sheaf mountains,
Hills of scented hay.
Yearly for her children
Earth, the Mother, pours
Thus in rick and linhay
Her sustaining stores:
Heedless if the ploughman
Reap the seed he sows,
If with grass and leaf-bud
He o'erlive the snows.
Earth, the Mother, pours
Thus in rick and linhay
Her sustaining stores:
Heedless if the ploughman
Reap the seed he sows,
If with grass and leaf-bud
He o'erlive the snows.
Man she loves; but loves not
With a mother's heart;
'Tis the race that only
In her care has part.
For the Whole providing,
Deaf to each one's fate,
She our tears and laughter
Eyes with smile sedate.
With a mother's heart;
'Tis the race that only
In her care has part.
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Deaf to each one's fate,
She our tears and laughter
Eyes with smile sedate.
—Down a twilight ocean
Men like swimmers go;
Some sweet face beside them,
Some few voices know.
Faint and firm the Pole star
Beaconing overhead,
O'er the heaving billows
Draws a silver thread.
Men like swimmers go;
Some sweet face beside them,
Some few voices know.
Faint and firm the Pole star
Beaconing overhead,
O'er the heaving billows
Draws a silver thread.
Who knows when his nearest
'Neath the flood shall go?
Who, when Death may call him
From the night below?—
—Shall we see the spring-time,
Hear the bird again?
Ask no more, when autumn
Brings the harvest wain!
'Neath the flood shall go?
Who, when Death may call him
From the night below?—
—Shall we see the spring-time,
Hear the bird again?
Ask no more, when autumn
Brings the harvest wain!
Swaying down the hillside,
On the hedge it weaves
Lines of golden wheat-straw
That outlast the leaves:
—Shall we see the spring-time
Bud and burst again?—
Ask no more, Eugenia!
Ask no more in vain!
On the hedge it weaves
Lines of golden wheat-straw
That outlast the leaves:
—Shall we see the spring-time
Bud and burst again?—
Ask no more, Eugenia!
Ask no more in vain!
| Amenophis and Other Poems Sacred and Secular | |