The cornfields rise above mankind, Lifting white torches to the blue, Each season not ashamed to be Magnificently decked for you. What right have you to call them yours, And in brute lust of riches burn Without some radiant penance wrought, Some beautiful, devout return? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 45. A LITTLE WHILE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THE HUNTER AND THE MILKMAID by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER TO EMILY DICKINSON by MARY BOWEN BRAINERD A DIALOGUE BETWEEN HOM-VEG AND BALLURE'S RIVER by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN CEDARS by GRACE HAZARD CONKLING AN EPISTLE TO AN AFFLICTED PROTESTANT LADY IN FRANCE by WILLIAM COWPER |