A YEOMAN by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN

THIS man that at the wheatstack side
Sits drinking of the twilight air,
This man's my friend, in him's my guide
And guard against the traps of care.

His life now past meridian mark
One can but say is blossoming yet,
His summer day smiles back the dark,
His sun seems nearer rise than set.

In lusty youth when surging blood
With foam and din bemuses most,
Leander-like he rode the flood,
And strongly came to manhood's coast.

Since, with a sturdy steady tread,
He sowed and stored himself good grain,
And glowing yet he bows his head
With plough and scythe across the plain.

And like the north star stablished true
He cheers and aids my asking eye;
To see him at his door anew
Is like a sign shown in the sky.

With all his calm he's eager still,
New dreams in his old vision thrive,
He seizes chance on dale and hill,
And all his life has been alive.

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

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