A Green Cornfield
by Christina Georgina Rossetti
The earth was green, the sky was blue:
I saw and heard one sunny morn
A skylark hang between the two,
A singing speck above the corn;
A stage below, in gay accord,
White butterflies danced on the wing,
And still the singing skylark soared,
And silent sank and soared to sing.
The cornfield stretched a tender green
To right and left beside my walks;
I knew he had a nest unseen
Somewhere among the million stalks.
And as I paused to hear his song
While swift the sunny moments slid,
Perhaps his mate sat listening long,
And listened longer than I did.
I chose this poem as a tribute to my Father who is a farmer and is still working hard growing crops like corn. I'm sure he could tell of many moments like that described in this poem.
The photo is from my parents property. You can just see the house to the right of the barn, hiding behind the trees. I took this photo in 1994 but it all looks pretty much the same today as it did then.
Thanks to Carolyn at Sweet Home and Garden Chicago for hosting Garden Bloggers' Muse Day. Be sure to stop by her site and check out all the other muses.
Buckeye Candy
15 years ago
10 comments:
How beautiful and what a lovely tribute to all farmers.
Tina ~ I'm glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for stopping by.
Cindy,
Your photo is beautiful...I love seeing the clouds in a blue sky. Your father must be a remarkable man...he may be younger than i am imaging but farming is not easy! Being an urban girl, it's hard to imagine growing up on a farm! My lone farm experiences are summers when we visited grandparent farms....not mine but my best friend's grandparents farms. We had adventures swimming in pond farms, picking blackberries and walking everywhere. But we hadn't any responsibilities and no chores. What we did have was outdoor toilets and hauling water for baths! Funny they don't seem like chores to me.
Gail
Gail - My father is such a great guy, and pretty remarkable as well. It's hard for me to think of him as old but he's 66 - and would like to be not farming anymore, it IS hard work!
Growing up on a farm was a lot of fun. We never had to haul water for baths though! Ha, what fun summers you must have had!
~Cindy
"The cornfield stretched a tender green", I love that line. Your parents farm is beautiful. I think a farmer or a gardener would appreciate that poem.
Eve ~ yes I like that line too. The whole poem rings so true to me and I was happy to find a good photo to match. It took some digging though and I had to scan it in - haha.
What a beautiful poem, a lovely picture of your parents' home, and a wonderful tribute to your father!
What a lovely photo - it's just how I imagine America to be.
This picture could be of my parents' farm here in Central Illinois! They still live on the farm, but my father finally retired at the age of 80. Sad to say, no one in the immediate family is farming it now.
Lovely poem.
DP ~ It's always nice to look at pictures from home. Bring's back such fun summer memories.
VP ~ Thanks for stopping by, it's how American is to me.
Rose ~ I'm sorry to hear that your parents farm is without a farmer. Your father really deserves to be retired, that's a long time to do such hard work as farming!
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