The Dancers of the Field
Bliss Carman
1861 to 1929
The wind went combing through the grass,
The tall white daisies rocked and bowed;
Such ecstasy that never was
Possessed the shining multitude.
They turned their faces to the sun,
And danced the radiant morn away;
Of all his brave eye looked upon,
His daughters of delight were they.
And when the round and yellow moon,
Like a pale petal of the dusk
Blown loose, above the sea rim shone,
They gave me no more need to ask
How immortality is named;
For I remembered like a dream
How ages since my spirit flamed
To wear their guise and dance with them.
Bliss Carman's The Dancers of the Field
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