In fields hopeless and dumb Droops the pale-bladed grain; It is dozing and numb Amid dreams that are vain.... With a high sudden hum The field tosses its mane: "Unto us Christ is come!" The wild news shakes the plain. Like a wind-beaten drum Shouts the quivering grain. The bells ring soft and slow, There is clamor and pain In the church, and a low Voice is lifted again That reiterates: "Woe!" To the poor folk and plain Are brought candles aglow: "Christ is coming again!" But with voices of woe They file doorward, in pain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CENTRAL PARK AT DUSK by SARA TEASDALE AURENG-ZEBE, OR THE GREAT MOGUL: PROLOGUE by JOHN DRYDEN ON COMMUNISTS; EPIGRAM by EBENEZER ELLIOTT MENAPHON: SEPHESTIA'S [CRADLE] SONG TO HER CHILD by ROBERT GREENE THE IMMORTALS by ISAAC ROSENBERG MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 11 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |