Across the Fields

Across the fields, the happy fields that lay
Unfaded yet, one visionary day
We walked together, and the world was sweet.
Each heard the whisper neither might repeat,
Love's whisper underneath our light word-play.

When fields were brown, when skies hung close and gray,
Alone I walked the dear familiar way,
With eager heart, with hurrying love-led feet,
Across the fields.

O life that hath so bitter words to say!
O heart so sore impatient of delay!
O wistful hands that reach and may not meet!
O eyes that yearn for answering eyes to greet!
The summer comes. It wins me not to stray
Across the fields.

Credit

Author

Sophie Jewett

Sophie Jewett, a poet, translator, and professor, was born on June 3, 1861, in Moravia, New York, to Dr. Charles Carroll Jewett, a country physician, and Ellen Ransom Burroughs. Jewett’s father died during her childhood, prompting the family, including her two sisters and brother, to move to Buffalo, New York. Around age twenty, she traveled to England and Italy, usually in the company of one of her sisters, who was an artist. Her sojourns in the latter country inspired what became Italian Sketches (Suburban Press, 1917).

Date Published

01/01/1910