Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO FRANCE, by GLADYS CROMWELL


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO FRANCE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Oh, still I dream of thee, my france
Last Line: With his, whose loving arms enfold the skies!
Subject(s): France; Nations


OH, still I dream of thee, my France! The sun
Irradiates thy meadows. Stalks of grain
And aureate beams infusing them are one.
There is a harmony that links thy plain
To quiet skies; that weaves a slender chain
Of living vine with wavering light. Where cease
Thy level spaces, hills dim clouds detain;
And in thy south, where seasons find increase,
The sheaves, like kneeling women, praise thy peace.

Unwilling and reluctant are my dreams,
To recognize transforming destinies.
I dream of thee, my France; of mellow beams
That ripen happiness; of ample skies
That frame thy far perspectives. Meadows rise
To them by poplar spans. Upon thy ways
I see the cross. The gentle Saviour dies
With arms athwart the cloud. As heavenly rays
Touch earth, His love a sense of light conveys.

Is happiness no more than disguise,
A sheathing dream reality must wear?
If so, away with joyful mockeries!
My France, in desolation thou art fair.
Thy trampled poppies and thy fields laid bare
Express a beauty that prosperity
Concealed. Thy joys are fallen; fate would spare
No ornament of peace. But I can see
The strange unfolding of thy destiny.

I love thee, and would know thee as indeed
Thou art. No scythe, a sword embraces wheat,
The poplars on thy margin seem to heed
No more the wind that made their stems throb sweet
As lyre strings. The stars alone entreat.
Thy vine is severed and thy grape is blood;
Thy sheaves are souls. Thy rising meadows meet
The sky like surging waves of a dark flood,
And shadow closes every quickening bud.

My France, my France, in darkness I begin
To know the light that only faith can shed
Upon thy ways. As joy and beauty win
Through death, so thou shalt win. Art thou not fed,
Though fields are bare, with spiritual bread?
The star-strewn shadow crowns and dignifies
Thy young, submissive God of the bowed head.
How newly does thy sorrow harmonize
With His, whose loving arms enfold the skies!





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