Low Tide on Grand Pré: A Book of Lyrics

by Bliss Carman


 

SEVEN THINGS


 

THE fields of earth are sown
     From the hand of the striding rain,
And kernels of joy are strewn
     Abroad for the harrow of pain.

 

I

 

The first song-sparrow brown
5
     That wakes the earliest spring,
When time and fear sink down,
     And death is a fabled thing.

 

II

 

The stealing of that first dawn
     Over the rosy brow,
10
When thy soul said, "World, fare on,
     For Heaven is here and now!"

 

III

 

The crimson shield of the sun
     On the wall of this House of Doom,
With the garb of war undone
15
     At last in the narrow room.

 

IV

 

A heart that abides to the end,
     As the hills for sureness and peace,
And is neither weary to wend
     Nor reluctant at last of release.
20

 

V

 

Thy mother’s cradle croon
     To haunt thee over the deep,
Out of the land of Boon
     Into the land of Sleep.

 

VI

 

The sound of the sea in storm,
25
     Hearing its captain cry,
When the wild, white riders form,
     And the Ride to the Dark draws nigh.

 

VII

 

But last and best, the urge
     Of the great world’s desire,
30
Whose being from core to verge
     Only attains to aspire.