SUMMER in its green fatness burns and blows.
Peace diapers the nodding wood.
The heart is as full as the udders of the cows And aches to feel all well, but knows Our time is enemy of good.
News is as black and angry as the crows
Quarreling around their broken tree.
It is as though these birds, from upper boughs
Could watch how danger grows
As well as we.
Starlit, you walk between the thick corn rows,
Heavy your body with growing, like the loam.
From you and a young farmer as he plows A great courage flows—
For the gentle of heart must at last win home.
ISSUE: Summer 1938