Part 17 (1/2)

Young was the moon, and he was gone, So we whet our scythes by the stars alone:

But or ever the long blades felt the hay Afar in the East the dawn was grey.

Or ever we struck our earliest stroke The thrush in the hawthorn-bush awoke.

While yet the bloom of the swathe was dim The blackbird's bill had answered him.

Ere half of the road to the river was shorn The sunbeam smote the twisted thorn.

Now wide was the way 'twixt the standing gra.s.s For the townsfolk unto the mote to pa.s.s,

And so when all our work was done We sat to breakfast in the sun,

While down in the stream the dragon-fly 'Twixt the quivering rushes flickered by;

And though our knives shone sharp and white The swift bleak heeded not the sight.

So when the bread was done away We looked along the new-shorn hay,

And heard the voice of the gathering-horn Come over the garden and the corn;

For the wind was in the blossoming wheat And drave the bees in the lime-boughs sweet.

Then loud was the horn's voice drawing near, And it hid the talk of the prattling weir.

And now was the horn on the pathway wide That we had shorn to the river-side.

So up we stood, and wide around We sheared a s.p.a.ce by the Elders' Mound;

And at the feet thereof it was That highest grew the June-tide gra.s.s;

And over all the mound it grew With clover blent, and dark of hue.

But never aught of the Elders' Hay To rick or barn was borne away.

But it was bound and burned to ash In the barren close by the reedy plash.

For 'neath that mound the valiant dead Lay hearkening words of valiance said

When wise men stood on the Elders' Mound, And the swords were s.h.i.+ning bright around.

And now we saw the banners borne On the first of the way that we had shorn; So we laid the scythe upon the sward And girt us to the battle-sword.

For after the banners well we knew Were the Freemen wending two and two.

There then that highway of the scythe With many a hue was brave and blythe.