Like Barley Bending

by


Like barley bending
In low fields by the sea,
Singing in hard wind
Ceaselessly;

Like barley bending
And rising again,
So would I, unbroken,
Rise from pain;

So would I softly,
Day long, night long,
Change my sorrow
Into song.

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Return to the Sara Teasdale Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; Longing

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