Explore "Over the wheat field" by Bliss Carman on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Over the wheat-field, / Over the hill-crest, / Swoops and is gone / The beat of a wild wing, / Brushing the pine-tops, / Bending the poppies, / Hurrying Northward / With golden summer.
What premonition, / O purple swallow, / Told thee the happy / Hour of migration? / Hark! On the threshold / (Hush, flurried heart in me! ), / Was there a footfall? / Did no one enter?
Soon will a shepherd / In rugged Dacia, / Folding his gentle / Ewes in the twilight, / Lifting a level / Gaze from the sheepfold, / Say to his fellows, / "Lo, it is springtime. "
This very hour / In Mitylene, / Will not a young girl / Say to her lover, / Lifting her moon-white / Arms to enlace him, / Ere the glad sigh comes, / "Lo, it is lovetime! "