Poems (Hardy)/In the cornfield
IN THE CORN-FIELD
ENCOMPASSED close by ranks of bladed corn,
Where shade and shine their harmless rapiers cross,
Where dallying airs the yellow cornsilk toss,
Upon the earth at rest and unforlorn
Though all alone, I lie in tranquil scorn
Of nearer care or far to-morrow's loss;
And if above my head 'tis silken floss
That floats, or cloud, I'll think to-morrow morn.
For, oh, it is enough to lapse into a dream
And let the wearied heart its pulsing slow;
Enough to feel the folding air at play
On brow and cheek, and watch the stream
Of downward sloping leaves, and come and go
In thought with them, as forth and back they sway.
Where shade and shine their harmless rapiers cross,
Where dallying airs the yellow cornsilk toss,
Upon the earth at rest and unforlorn
Though all alone, I lie in tranquil scorn
Of nearer care or far to-morrow's loss;
And if above my head 'tis silken floss
That floats, or cloud, I'll think to-morrow morn.
For, oh, it is enough to lapse into a dream
And let the wearied heart its pulsing slow;
Enough to feel the folding air at play
On brow and cheek, and watch the stream
Of downward sloping leaves, and come and go
In thought with them, as forth and back they sway.