Saga of the North: Forgotten Harvests -

Forgotten Harvests

Darkness and silence of the Northland,
Too long have you held the secrets of our Fair-haired fathers
Hidden like mysterious mountains in the twilight of autumn.
But through the rune-shaped windows of old books
And the black mouths of ancient sagas
You are seen and heard again.
Poppies smoulder in your springtime snowbanks,
Ethereal green stripes your midge-haunted reindeer pastures,
I see you reaping desperately in the short Greenland summer,
Hear the bells of your cattle driven home at sunny midnight,
Watch the cod drying on the driftwood racks, —
The sun-glow faint below the frozen hills, —
Till fingers of the aurora tamper with the moon
And white stars build the lasting arch of winter.

SPRINGTIME AND HARVEST
ARE NOT OF MEN'S SETTING,
AUTUMN IS OFTEN A CENTURY FROM SPRING,
GO PLOW THE STRAIGHT FURROWS,
YOU HEROES AND MARTYRS,
PLUCK HANDS FROM THE SEED BAGS,
YOU SOWERS, — AND FLING.