FIREFLIES IN THE CORN

She speaks.

Look at the little darlings in the corn!

The rye is taller than you, who think yourself

So high and mighty: look how the heads are borne

Dark and proud on the sky, like a number of knights

Passing with spears and pennants and manly scorn.

Knights indeed!— much knight I know will ride

With his head held high-serene against the sky!

Limping and following rather at my side

Moaning for me to love him!— Oh darling rye

How I adore you for your simple pride!

And the dear, dear fireflies wafting in between

And over the swaying corn-stalks, just above

All the dark-feathered helmets, like little green

Stars come low and wandering here for love

Of these dark knights, shedding their delicate sheen!

I thank you I do, you happy creatures, you dears

Riding the air, and carrying all the time

Your little lanterns behind you! Ah, it cheers

My soul to see you settling and trying to climb

The corn-stalks, tipping with fire the spears.

All over the dim corn's motion, against the blue

Dark sky of night, a wandering glitter, a swarm

Of questing brilliant souls going out with their true

Proud knights to battle! Sweet, how I warm

My poor, my perished soul with the sight of you!