There will be nothing -- not the light dust stirred Into the semblance of their wistful feet; No rumorous tale the dawn wind overheard Of shapes that moved among dim sheaves of wheat -- There will be nothing, when the husbandmen Return, to hint of such as come to keep Tryst with old dreams in summer fields again, Remembering harvests that were theirs to reap. And they who till these acres have no way Of knowing how precarious and frail Is tenure that at any twilight may Revert to ghostly claimants, by entail; Nor how, at harvest-time, these take a yield, Weightless as dream, from field on darkened field. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GIRL TO SOLDIER ON LEAVE by ISAAC ROSENBERG A RENOUNCING OF LOVE by THOMAS WYATT A CHRISTMAS HYMN by CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER SONNET: 6 by RICHARD BARNFIELD THE CHASE OF THE METAPHOR by RICHARD BLACKMORE JULY IN MONTANA by LILLA BOGERT THE WET WOODS by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE |