She speaks.      Look at the little darlings in the corn!
        The rye is taller than you, who think yourself
     So high and mighty¹: look how the heads are
          borne
     Dark and proud on the sky, like a number of
          knights²
     Passing with spears and pennants⁴ and manly⁵ scorn.
 
     Knights indeed!—much knight³ I know will ride
        With his head held high-serene against the sky!
     Limping and following rather at my side
        Moaning for me to love him!—Oh darling rye
     How I adore you for your simple pride!
 
     And the dear, dear fireflies wafting⁶ in between
        And over the swaying corn-stalks, just above
     All the dark-feathered helmets, like little green
        Stars come low and wandering here for love
     Of these dark knights, shedding their delicate
          sheen!
 
     I thank you I do, you happy creatures, you dears
        Riding the air, and carrying all the time
     Your little lanterns behind you! Ah, it cheers
        My soul to see you settling and trying to
          climb
     The corn-stalks, tipping with fire the spears.
 
     All over the dim corn's motion, against the blue
        Dark sky of night, a wandering glitter, a
          swarm⁷
     Of questing brilliant souls going out with their
          true
        Proud knights to battle! Sweet, how I warm
     My poor, my perished soul with the sight of
          you!
     A DOE AT EVENING
 
     As I went through the marshes⁸
     a doe sprang out of the corn
     and flashed up the hill-side
     leaving her

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