 | Between Doubting and Daring |  |
17
A Farmer's Fields
On the hill-slope in the sun
There his fields lie; every one
Glows a jewel, where evening light
Stays its flight from dusk begun.
There his fields lie; every one
Glows a jewel, where evening light
Stays its flight from dusk begun.
O'er them curved a crested height
Rims the East whence dawns the night;
High they climb this flitting day's
Long clear rays to front aright.
Rims the East whence dawns the night;
High they climb this flitting day's
Long clear rays to front aright.
By her door she stands at gaze,
Strange looks bent on olden ways;
In a silence newly grown
Waits alone while dark delays.
Strange looks bent on olden ways;
In a silence newly grown
Waits alone while dark delays.
All their chequered ploughed-and-sown,
Spiny furze-bush, briery stone,
Through their changing brown and green,
Silken sheen, and blossom strown,
Spiny furze-bush, briery stone,
Through their changing brown and green,
Silken sheen, and blossom strown,
Under shine and shadow seen,
Joy to her and care have been;
Now they seem a cloud-veiled shore
With the roar of waves between.
Joy to her and care have been;
Now they seem a cloud-veiled shore
With the roar of waves between.
‘Many a time he'd look them o'er,
Late and early, from this door;
Many a time, heart-vexed and crossed,
See storm-tossed his little store.
Late and early, from this door;
Many a time, heart-vexed and crossed,
See storm-tossed his little store.
‘Aye,’ she says, ‘to bitter cost
Came against him blight and frost,
Rain and drought, and all the rest;
Try his best, 'twas labour lost.
Came against him blight and frost,
18
Try his best, 'twas labour lost.
‘Oft-times ruffled like the breast
Of a kestrel-struck woodquest
Lay his feathery oats, for so
Wild 'twill blow from yonder West.
Of a kestrel-struck woodquest
Lay his feathery oats, for so
Wild 'twill blow from yonder West.
‘Or a sea-fog, drifted low,
Left the 'taties row by row
Blackened; for one creel he'd fill,
Half a drill away he'd throw.
Left the 'taties row by row
Blackened; for one creel he'd fill,
Half a drill away he'd throw.
‘Sure hard task he had to till
Just the bare side of the hill,
Let alone with wind and wet
On him set by the Lord's will.
Just the bare side of the hill,
Let alone with wind and wet
On him set by the Lord's will.
‘Still, proud man he was, if yet
God be praised, good luck he met:
When his oats were fit to reap,
Scarce he'd sleep till out he'd get.’
God be praised, good luck he met:
When his oats were fit to reap,
Scarce he'd sleep till out he'd get.’
While she watches, o'er the steep
Dim white mists float down and sweep;
From each field that shimmering lies
Brightness dies as on they creep.
Dim white mists float down and sweep;
From each field that shimmering lies
Brightness dies as on they creep.
These may lift 'neath dawn-flushed skies:
Mists that from the farmer's eyes
Hid his bit of land, though morn
Break forlorn, no more shall rise.
Mists that from the farmer's eyes
Hid his bit of land, though morn
Break forlorn, no more shall rise.
| Between Doubting and Daring | |