On a Corn-field

On a Corn-field.

Oh, it is a glorious sight, that field of corn!
Yellow as amber is each ripen’d ear:
See, now they lowly bend,—like one forlorn,
Who o’er departed fiend doth drop a tear;
And now they rise majestic,—like a man 5
Who, hearing Slander blackening his name,
Resolves to do whate’er a true man can
To clear his conduct and uphold his fame,
Full soon, I ween, will merry reapers come,
With keen-edged hooks that shine like sabres bright, 10
And (cheer’d with thoughts of joyful harvest-home)
Toil ’neath the burning sun with hero-might.
Fill each the ale-horn; let them rest awhile,
And harmless chat the tedious hours beguile.

George Markham Tweddell
[Sonnets on Trees and Flowers, p. 1.] Also published in Yorkshire
Gazette, Aug. 29, 1848. Home Circle, Sept. 8, 1849. Darlington Times,
Sept. 14, 1850.