Songs in a Cornfield

A song in a cornfieldWhere corn begins to fall,Where reapers are reaping,Reaping one, reaping all.Sing pretty Lettice,Sing Rachel, sing May;Only Marian cannot singWhile her sweetheart's away.

Where is he gone toAnd why does he stay?He came across the green seaBut for a day,Across the deep green seaTo help with the hay.

His hair was curly yellowAnd his eyes were grey,He laughed a merry laughAnd said a sweet say.Where is he gone toThat he comes not home?To-day or to-morrowHe surely will come.Let him haste to joyLest he lag for sorrow,For one weeps to-dayWho'll not weep to-morrow:To-day she must weepFor gnawing sorrow,To-night she may sleepAnd not wake to-morrow.

May sang with RachelIn the waxing warm weather,Lettice sang with them,They sang all together:--

'Take the wheat in your armWhilst day is broad above,Take the wheat to your bosom,But not a false love.Out in the fieldsSummer heat gloweth,Out in the fieldsSummer wind bloweth,Out in the fieldsSummer friend showeth,Out in the fieldsSummer wheat groweth;But in the winterWhen summer heat is deadAnd summer wind has veeredAnd summer friend has fled,Only summer wheat remaineth,White cakes and bread.Take the wheat, clasp the wheatThat's food for maid and dove;Take the wheat to your bosom,But not a false false love.'

A silence of full noontide heatGrew on them at their toil:The farmer's dog woke up from sleep,The green snake hid her coil.Where grass stood thickest, bird and beastSought shadows as they could,The reaping men and women pausedAnd sat down where they stood;They ate and drank and were refreshed,For rest from toil is good.

While the reapers took their ease,Their sickles lying by,Rachel sang a second strain,And singing seemed to sigh:--

'There goes the swallow--Could we but follow!Hasty swallow stay,Point us out the way;Look back swallow, turn back swallow, stop swallow.

'There went the swallow--Too late to follow:Lost our note of way,Lost our chance to-day;Good bye swallow, sunny swallow, wise swallow.

'After the swallowAll sweet things follow:All things go their way,Only we must stay,Must not follow; good bye swallow, good swallow.'

Then listless Marian raised her headAmong the nodding sheaves;Her voice was sweeter than that voice;She sang like one who grieves:Her voice was sweeter than its wontAmong the nodding sheaves;All wondered while they heard her singLike one who hopes and grieves:--

'Deeper than the hail can smite,Deeper than the frost can bite,Deep asleep through day and night,Our delight.

'Now thy sleep no pang can break,No to-morrow bid thee wake,Not our sobs who sit and acheFor thy sake.

'Is it dark or light below?Oh, but is it cold like snow?Dost thou feel the green things growFast or slow?

'Is it warm or cold beneath,Oh, but is it cold like death?Cold like death, without a breath,Cold like death?'

If he comes to-dayHe will find her weeping;If he comes to-morrowHe will find her sleeping;If he comes the next dayHe'll not find her at all,He may tear his curling hair,Beat his breast and call.