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A woman taunts her lover:
LOOK at the little darlings in the corn! | |
| The rye is taller than you, who think yourself | |
| So high and mighty: look how its heads are borne | |
| Dark and proud on the sky, like a number of knights | |
| Passing with spears and pennants and manly scorn. | 5 |
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| And always likely!—Oh, if I could ride | |
| With my head held high-serene against the sky | |
| Do you think I’d have a creature like you at my side | |
| With your gloom and your doubt that you love me? O darling rye, | |
| How I adore you for your simple pride! | 10 |
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| And those bright fireflies wafting in between | |
| And over the swaying cornstalks, just above | |
| All their dark-feathered helmets, like little green | |
| Stars come low and wandering here for love | |
| Of this dark earth, and wandering all serene—! | 15 |
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| How I adore you, you happy things, you dears, | |
| Riding the air and carrying all the time | |
| Your little lanterns behind you: it cheers | |
| My heart to see you settling and trying to climb | |
| The corn-stalks, tipping with fire their spears. | 20 |
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| All over the corn’s dim motion, against the blue | |
| Dark sky of night, the wandering glitter, the swarm | |
| Of questing brilliant things:—you joy, you true | |
| Spirit of careless joy: ah, how I warm | |
| My poor and perished soul at the joy of you! | 25 |
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The man answers and she mocks:
You’re a fool, woman. I love you, and you know I do! | |
| —Lord, take his love away, it makes him whine. | |
| And I give you everything that you want me to. | |
| —Lord, dear Lord, do you think he ever can shine? | |
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