Song of the Mating Time

Out of the cornfields at daybreak,Ready to run through the dawn to the place of beginning,Creeping, I come, out of the corn,Wet with the juice of bruised corn leaves—out of the corn I come.

Eager to kiss the fingers of queens,Eager to stand with kings,To breed my kind and stand with kings.

Out of the corn at daybreak,Brother to dogs,Big brother to creeping, crawling things,Stretched full length on the long wet grass at the edge of the cornfields,Waiting,Here I lie through the day, waiting and waiting.

Come, tired little sister,run with me.See—I kiss your lips—soft—to entice you.In the still young night we begin our running,Stripping our clothes away.

Skirting the towns, passing the lonely houses,Staying away from the sleeping cities,Running forever—on and on—into the empire of the corn.

Come, tired little sister, run with me.Do you know my brother, the farmer?Now he grows discouraged and weeps.I saw him kneeling and praying alone, by a destroyed wheat field.It was the time of learning for me.I fairly choked.It was the beginning of faith in the gods for me.

Up now, little short-winded sister thing,I'll make love to you after awhile.Save your strength.Let's be running.Let's be running.

See the trains in the long flat fields at night,The screaming trains—yellow and black.In and out of the land they go—Yellow and black—screaming and shrieking.

Come, tired little sister, run with me.Let's lie down on this hill-side here.Let our soft mid-western nights creep into you.See the little things, creeping, creeping,Hear, in the night, the little things creeping.Let's be creeping.Let's be creeping.

I've got a strong man's love for you.See the muscles of my legs—how tense.Now I leap and cry like a strong young stallion.Let's away.West of Chicago the endless cornfields.Let's be running.Come away.