Isabella Fyvie Mayo
Among The Corn - Poem by Isabella Fyvie Mayo
The girl sat down 'mid the rustling corn,
And startled a nested bird,
And up it sprang with a burst of song;
But I do not think she heard.
She sat her down on the low stone wall,
And gazed at the sunset sky:
I cannot think that she saw its glow,
For why should it make her sigh?
What does she think about, sitting there?
What does her spirit see?
Is she thanking God for His golden sky,
And for river and hill and tree?
No: for her heart's in the city streets
Where the working day is done:
The crows are hurrying home, she knows
But she only thinks of one.
She sees a room in an old brown house,
With a window long and low,
Where above the hum and the dusty moil
Some country geraniums grow.
She dreams of the life the women have
Who live in such homely place:
Is it the light of the setting sun
That is glowing on her face?
What of the meadows that smile below,
Or the ruddy clouds above?
They are but the gold God gave to set
Round His priceless gem of love.
Let her sit and dream 'mid the rustling corn
Till the golden sky grow grey:
We scarcely notice God's earth is fair
Till something is gone away.
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