Songs of the Common Day, and Ave!

An Ode for the Shelley Centenary

by Charles G.D. Roberts

 

IN AN OLD BARN

 
TONS upon tons the brown-green fragrant hay
     O'erbrims the mows beyond the time-warped eaves,
     Up to the rafters where the spider weaves,
Though few flies wander his secluded way.
Through a high chink one lonely golden ray,
5

     Wherein the dust is dancing, slants unstirred.
     In the dry hush some rustlings light are heard,
Of winter-hidden mice at furtive play.

Far down, the cattle in their shadowed stalls,
     Nose-deep in clover fodder's meadowy scent,

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     Forget the snows that whelm their pasture streams,
The frost that bites the world beyond their walls.
     Warm housed, they dream of summer, well content
     In day-long contemplation of their dreams.