A gleaner brown, a rustic flower, Loved a rich peasant's only son; But she could bring no other dower Than the fond heart that he had won. She wept. The father said at last: "Go, reap yon barley field of mine— If, when three days from now have passed The task is done, my boy is thine." Come, listen to my mournful strain, A simple story, sweet and sad, This tale of one who loved in vain Was told me by a harvest lad. The father spoke, the listening maid With joy and love nigh swooned away: Forthwith she seized a reaper's blade And deftly plied it, night and day. When, faint and wearied, in despair, She felt her yearning strength depart— She drew fresh courage from her prayer, And prayer was prompted by her heart. Come, listen to my mournful strain, A simple story, sweet and sad, This tale of one who loved in vain Was told me by a harvest lad. A daisy in her path delays The tender glances of her eye; "Price of my happiness," she says, "Poor harmless blossom, thou must die!" But while it perished in its youth, It looked so pitifully mild, That the fond maiden wept for ruth— She, too, was but a blossom wild. Come, listen to my mournful strain, A simple story, sweet and sad, This tale of one who loved in vain Was told me by a harvest lad. The third day passed, with twilight shade The rich man to his barley came; Breathless and pale, there stood the maid, Her eyes triumphantly aflame! "I did but jest, my girl," he cried, "Ten crowns thy toil will amply pay." Alas! one more frail blossom died, Cut to the heart, ere close of day! Such is the story, sad and sweet, I heard amid the golden grain: The maidens sing it when they meet, And mingle weeping with the strain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS VISION by HAYDEN CARRUTH A PORTRAIT OF MY ROOF by JAMES GALVIN GUARDIANSHIP by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE FRUIT GARDEN PATH by AMY LOWELL THE PICTURE (VENUS RECLINING) by EZRA POUND |