Page:The Granite Monthly Volume 6.djvu/419

 THE BARLEY-FIELD. 381

this tendency utilized and systema- in this direction, ami if these sug-

tized by the planting of the most val- gestions shall lead to discussion and

liable species best adapted to the dif- intelligent experiment as to how forest

ferent soils and localities. culture shall be promoted, their end

I believe the time has fully come will be fully accomplished. for our land-owners to think and act

��THE BARLEY-FIELD.

��BY MARY H. WHEELER.

O .smooth, smooth, smooth, were the door-rock dark

And the stepping-stones thereby. And green, green, green, sprang the grass between,

Till tbe foot-path met your eye. Then past the well, with its swinging sweep, Between the barn and the great stone heap,

By the tall green tree where, well-concealed, The cat-bird sang, in his mocking way. Song after song, through the long, long day,

And you came to the barley-field.

Then down, down, down, through the barley-field

Went the path like a long, steep aisle ; And if we would go to the road below.

We must cross the wall at the stile. In early spring, when the grass was new. And the. catkins plump on the willows grew,

When the bursting buds young leaves revealed, As I wandered there on a sunny day, The busy farmer beside the wa} r

Was sowing the barley-field.

But bright, bright, Bright, w r ere the summer days,

And the sweet rains softly fell. And the warm winds blew, and the barley grew,

Oh ! fairer than I can tell. The foot-path leading away through the green Was narrow, straight, and but dimly seen

By the wind-swept, waving blades concealed; For, thick and green as green could be, The growing grain was as high as my knee,

As I ran through the barley-field.

Then up. up, up. grew the barley tall,

Till the bearded heads were grown, And bent adovvn was each heavy crown.

By the lightest breezes blown. Head after head in merry chase Swept, down the hill in a mimic race.

And no line the hidden path revealed ; And rippled along ray hands the grain, As, with outstretched arms, I ran again

Away through the barley -field. Pittsfield. N. H.

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