Page:Collected poems vol 1 de la mare.djvu/126

 LL winter through I bow my head
 * Beneath the driving rain;

The North Wind powders me with snow
 * And blows me back again;

At midnight 'neath a maze of stars
 * I flame with glittering rime,

And stand, above the stubble, stiff
 * As mail at morning-prime.

But when that child, called Spring, and all
 * His host of children, come,

Scattering their buds and dew upon
 * These acres of my home,

Some rapture in my rags awakes;
 * I lift void eyes and scan

The skies for crows, those ravening foes,
 * Of my strange master, Man.

I watch him striding lank behind
 * His clashing team, and know

Soon will the wheat swish body high
 * Where once lay sterile snow;

Soon shall I gaze across a sea
 * Of sun-begotten grain,

Which my unflinching watch hath sealed
 * For harvest once again.