Fireflies in the Corn

A woman taunts her lover:   LOOK at the little darlings in the corn!   The rye is taller than you, who think yourself   So high and mighty: look how its heads are borne   Dark and proud on the sky, like a number of knights   Passing with spears and pennants and manly scorn.   And always likely!—Oh, if I could ride   With my head held high-serene against the sky   Do you think I’d have a creature like you at my side   With your gloom and your doubt that you love me? O darling rye,   How I adore you for your simple pride!   And those bright fireflies wafting in between   And over the swaying cornstalks, just above   All their dark-feathered helmets, like little green   Stars come low and wandering here for love   Of this dark earth, and wandering all serene—!   How I adore you, you happy things, you dears,   Riding the air and carrying all the time   Your little lanterns behind you: it cheers   My heart to see you settling and trying to climb   The corn-stalks, tipping with fire their spears.   All over the corn’s dim motion, against the blue   Dark sky of night, the wandering glitter, the swarm   Of questing brilliant things:—you joy, you true   Spirit of careless joy: ah, how I warm   My poor and perished soul at the joy of you! The man answers and she mocks:   You’re a fool, woman. I love you, and you know I do!     —Lord, take his love away, it makes him whine.   And I give you everything that you want me to.     —Lord, dear Lord, do you think he ever can shine?