Yea, she hath passed hereby, and blessed the sheaves, <br />And the great garths, and stacks, and quiet farms, <br />And all the tawny, and the crimson leaves. <br />Yea, she hath passed with poppies in her arms, <br />Under the star of dusk, through stealing mist, <br />And blessed the earth, and gone, while no man wist. <br /> <br />With slow, reluctant feet, and weary eyes, <br />And eye-lids heavy with the coming sleep, <br />With small breasts lifted up in stress of sighs, <br />She passed, as shadows pass, among the sheep; <br />While the earth dreamed, and only I was ware <br />Of that faint fragrance blown from her soft hair. <br /> <br />The land lay steeped in peace of silent dreams; <br />There was no sound amid the sacred boughs. <br />Nor any mournful music in her streams: <br />Only I saw the shadow on her brows, <br />Only I knew her for the yearly slain, <br />And wept, and weep until she come again.<br /><br />Frederic Manning<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/kore-2/
