Page:Once a Week Jun to Dec 1864.pdf/337

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AMONG THE SHEAVES.

I.

Among the sheaves—the golden sheaves,
An empty heart, I walk forlorn:
How sadly sigh the alder leaves—
I loathe those fields of mellow corn!

II.

Among the sheaves—the golden sheaves,
My heart is full, new hopes are born:
My heart is faint—for Hope deceives:
My passion may be met by scorn!

III.

Among the sheaves—the golden sheaves,
My Love is won! No more forlorn,
How sweet the whisp'ring alder leaves—
I bless those fields of mellow corn!

Evelyn Forest.