Page:Poems for Workers - ed. Manuel Gomez (1925).djvu/39

 time here")—

It whispers ominously away off on the wind to the wheat-fields and the hop-fields—

It whispers till the heart is chilled—

It whispers till Ford and Suhr can hear it in Folsom.

A curse of whispering dust on the town of Wheatland!

A curse of sleep on the town of Wheatland!

A curse of hops on the town of Wheatland!

A curse of memories on the town of Wheatland!

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