Rachel Lyman Field Poems

Something told the wild geese
It was time to go;
Though the fields lay golden
Something whispered, - 'snow'.
...

If once you have slept on an island
You'll never be quite the same;
You may look as you looked the day before
And go by the same old name,
...

I'd like to be a lighthouse
All scrubbed and painted white.
I'd like to be a lighthouse
And stay awake all night
...

Elves can't catch cold and they never cry.
But any sunny day you may spy
On fields and lawns all under the sky
...

We sat together in the small, square room,
Late sunshine fell across the kitchen floor
In yellow patches. I could hear the boom
...

This small house fitted him like some square shell
Weathered and worn, as if it somehow bore
His very likeness, but no smoke thread mounts;
...

I'd like to be walking the Cranberry Road,
Where the sea shines blue through the bristling firs,
and the rocky pastures are overgrown
...