There will be nothing -- not the light dust stirred Into the semblance of their wistful feet; No rumorous tale the dawn wind overheard Of shapes that moved among dim sheaves of wheat -- There will be nothing, when the husbandmen Return, to hint of such as come to keep Tryst with old dreams in summer fields again, Remembering harvests that were theirs to reap. And they who till these acres have no way Of knowing how precarious and frail Is tenure that at any twilight may Revert to ghostly claimants, by entail; Nor how, at harvest-time, these take a yield, Weightless as dream, from field on darkened field. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DEFINITION OF LOVE by ANDREW MARVELL TIPPERARY: 5. BY OUR OWN EUGENE FIELD by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE FUTURE SPEAKS by LOUIS KAUFMAN ANSPACHER A SOCIETY MARTYR by JOHN CLINTON ANTHONY THE OLD FERRYMAN by ANTIPHILUS OF BYZANTIUM LOST BUT FOUND by HORATIO (HORATIUS) BONAR THE MASACRE AT SCIO by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT |