Among the Millet

by Archibald Lampman




Oh deep-eyed brothers was there ever here,
    Or is there now, or shall there sometime be
    Harbour or any rest for such as we,
Lone thin-cheeked mariners, that aye must steer
Our whispering barks with such keen hope and fear                    5
    Toward misty bournes across the coastless sea,
    Whose winds are songs that ever gust and flee,
Whose shores are dreams that tower but come not near.

Yet we perchance, for all that flesh and mind
    Of many ills be marked with many a trace,                            10
Shall find this life more sweet more strangely kind,
    Than they of that dim-hearted earthly race,
    Who creep firm-nailed upon the earth’s hard face,
And hear nor see not, being deaf and blind.