Part 35 (1/2)
My Summer in a Garden Charles Dudley Warner Being a Boy ” ” ”
In the Wilderness ” ” ”
My Winter on the Nile ” ” ”
On Horseback ” ” ”
Back-log Studies ” ” ”
A Journey to Nature A.C. Wheeler The Making of a Country Home ” ”
A Self-supporting Home Kate V. St. Maur Folks back Home Eugene Wood Adventures in Contentment David Grayson Adventures in Friends.h.i.+p ” ”
The Friendly Road ” ”
New Lives for Old William Carleton A Living without a Boss Anonymous The Fat of the Land J.W. Streeter The Jonathan Papers Elizabeth Woodbridge Adopting an Abandoned Farm Kate Sanborn Out-door Studies T.W. Higginson The Women of America Elizabeth McCracken The Country Home E.P. Powell Blessing the Cornfields (in _Hiawatha_) H.W. Longfellow The Corn Song (in _The Huskers_) J.G. Whittier Charles Dudley Warner (in _American Writers of To-day_, pp. 89-103) H.C. Vedder
THE SINGING MAN
JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY
I
He sang above the vineyards of the world.
And after him the vines with woven hands Clambered and clung, and everywhere unfurled Triumphing green above the barren lands; Till high as gardens grow, he climbed, he stood, Sun-crowned with life and strength, and singing toil, And looked upon his work; and it was good: The corn, the wine, the oil.
He sang above the noon. The topmost cleft That grudged him footing on the mountain scars He planted and despaired not; till he left His vines soft breathing to the host of stars.
He wrought, he tilled; and even as he sang, The creatures of his planting laughed to scorn The ancient threat of deserts where there sprang The wine, the oil, the corn!
He sang not for abundance.--Over-lords Took of his tilth. Yet was there still to reap, The portion of his labor; dear rewards Of sunlit day, and bread, and human sleep.
He sang for strength; for glory of the light.
He dreamed above the furrows, 'They are mine!'
When all he wrought stood fair before his sight With corn, and oil, and wine.
_Truly, the light is sweet_ _Yea, and a pleasant thing_ _It is to see the Sun._ _And that a man should eat_ _His bread that he hath won_;-- (_So is it sung and said_), _That he should take and keep_, _After his laboring_, _The portion of his labor in his bread_, _His bread that he hath won_; _Yea, and in quiet sleep_, _When all is done._
He sang; above the burden and the heat, Above all seasons with their fitful grace; Above the chance and change that led his feet To this last ambush of the Market-place.
'Enough for him,' they said--and still they say-- 'A crust, with air to breathe, and sun to s.h.i.+ne; He asks no more!'--Before they took away The corn, the oil, the wine.
He sang. No more he sings now, anywhere.
Light was enough, before he was undone.
They knew it well, who took away the air, --Who took away the sun; Who took, to serve their soul-devouring greed, Himself, his breath, his bread--the goad of toil;-- Who have and hold, before the eyes of Need, The corn, the wine,--the oil!
_Truly, one thing is sweet_ _Of things beneath the Sun_; _This, that a man should earn his bread and eat_, _Rejoicing in his work which he hath done._ _What shall be sung or said_ _Of desolate deceit_, _When others take his bread_; _His and his children's bread?_-- _And the laborer hath none._ _This, for his portion now, of all that he hath done._ _He earns; and others eat._ _He starves;--they sit at meat_ _Who have taken away the Sun._
II
Seek him now, that singing Man.
Look for him, Look for him In the mills, In the mines; Where the very daylight pines,-- He, who once did walk the hills!
You shall find him, if you scan Shapes all unbefitting Man, Bodies warped, and faces dim.
In the mines; in the mills Where the ceaseless thunder fills s.p.a.ces of the human brain Till all thought is turned to pain.
Where the skirl of wheel on wheel, Grinding him who is their tool, Makes the shattered senses reel To the numbness of the fool.
Perisht thought, and halting tongue-- (Once it spoke;--once it sung!) Live to hunger, dead to song.