Page:Poems, Household Edition, Emerson, 1904.djvu/399

 PETER'S FIELD

[ he who tills this lonely field

To reap its scanty corn,

What mystic fruit his acres yield

At midnight and at morn?]

That field by spirits bad and good,

By Hell and Heaven is haunted,

And every rood in the hemlock wood

I know is ground enchanted.

[In the long sunny afternoon

The plain was full of ghosts:

I wandered up, I wandered down,

Beset by pensive hosts.]

For in those lonely grounds the sun

Shines not as on the town,

In nearer arcs his journeys run,

And nearer stoops the moon.

There in a moment I have seen

The buried Past arise;

The fields of Thessaly grew green,

Old gods forsook the skies.