Bright Harvest by Grace Noll Crowell - HTML preview

I Know A Land

I

KNOW a land of blowing silver grasses.

The memory runs like music in my mind,

Over and over again with bright insistence,

Long after its wide reach is left behind:

A green and silver music which keeps lifting

Its cadences forever toward the sun,

A wordless song of light and windy laughter,

Flung from the throats of grasses as they run.

Here in the city’s snarl of brick and mortar,

Its darkened canyons with their fevered dreams,

I still can hear that clear bright silver singing,

I still can see a wide land as it gleams;

And swift as a homing bird, released through

light,

My spirit, seeking its own, takes sudden flight.

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