THE SILENCE OF UNLABOURED FIELDS

The silence of unlaboured fields

Lies like a judgment on the air:

A human voice is never heard:

The sighing grass is everywhere —

The sighing grass, the shadowed sky,

The cattle crying wearily!

Where are the lowland people gone?

Where are the sun-dark faces now?

The love that kept the quiet hearth,

The strength that held the speeding plough?

Grasslands and lowing herds are good,

But better human flesh and blood!