"Where have I seen before, against the wind,
These bright virgins, robed and bare of bonnet,
Flowing with music of their strange quick tongue
And adventuring with delicate paces by the stream,—
Myself a child, old suddenly at the scream
From one of the white throats which it hid among?"
John Crowe Ransom (1888-1974), U.S. poet. Vision by Sweetwater (l. 11-16). . .
Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press. |
"Tawny are the leaves turned, but they still hold.
It is the harvest; what shall this land produce?
A meager hill of kernels, a runnel of juice.
Declension looks from our land, it is old."
John Crowe Ransom (1888-1974), U.S. poet. Antique Harvesters (l. 1-4). . .
Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press. |
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