Where long the shadows of the wind had rolled in
Green wheat was yielding to the change assigned,
And as by some vast magic undivined
The world was turning slowly into gold.
It waited there, the body and the mind;
And with a mighty meaning of a kind
That tells the more the more it is not told.
So, in a land where all days are not fair,
Fair days went on till on another day
A thousand gold sheaves were lying there....
Shining and still...
...but not for long to stay...
As if a thousand girls with gold hair
Might rise from where they slept....
...and go away.
Photographs 2026 this poem "the Sheaves" is in the public domain












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