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Poem by Gerald Massey
UP out of the Corn the Lark caroll'd in light, Like a new splendour sprung from the dark husk of Night, Green light shimmer'd laughing o'er forest and sod; The rich sky was full of the presence of God, As with brave careless rapture he lavisht around Rare violet fancies and rose-leaves of sound: All thro' the Morn's sun-city sea-like his psalm With melodious waves dasht the bright world of calm: BUT HEAVILY HUNG THE DROOPT EARS OF THE CORN: THEY WERE GATHERING GOLD IN THE DEWY MORN. And he sang, as on heaven's fire-grains he had fed, Till his heart's merry wine had made drunken his head. How he sang! as his honey in Life's cells ne'er dwindled, And bon-fires of Joy on all Life's hills were kindled: O! he sang, as he felt that to singing was given The magic to build rainbow-stairways to heaven! And he could not have sung with more lusty cheer, Had all the world listened a-tiptoe to hear! ALL THE WHILE HEAVILY HUNG THE CORN, AND ITS DROWSY EARS HEARD NOT THE SWEETHEART OF MORN.
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