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قراءة كتاب Cross Roads

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‏اللغة: English
Cross Roads

Cross Roads

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
الصفحة رقم: 7

to
        rend and slay,
     I live! And my eyes are lifting to gaze at the new-
        born day;
     And I pause, on the way to my hewn-out cave,
        though I know that she waits me there,
     My mate, with her eyes on the scarlet dawn, and the
        wind in her flame-like hair.

     I live—and the joy of living leaps up in my searching
        eyes,
     I live, and my soul starts forward, to challenge the
        waking skies!
     Far down are the torrents roaring, far up are the
        clouds, unfurled;
     And I stand on the cliff, exultant, akin to the waking
        world.

     The mists are gone, and an eagle sweeps down from
        the mountain high,
     And I wish that my arms were feathered and strong,
        that I, too, might fly;
     I live! I am one with the morning! Ah, I am a
        MAN, and free!
     And I shout aloud, and the scarlet dawn shouts back,
        on the gale, to me!





II. THE PIONEER

     I creep along, but silently,
        For, oh, the dawn is coming;
     I creep along, for I have heard
        A flint-tipped arrow, humming;
     And I have heard a snapping twig,
        Above the wind's low laughter;
     And I have known—and thrilled to know,
        That swift THEY followed after!

     The forest turns from black to grey,
        The leaves are silver-shining;
     But I have heard a far-off call—
        The war-whoop's sullen whining.
     And I have been a naked form,
        Among the tree trunks prowling;
     And I have glimpsed a savage face,
        That faded from me, scowling.

     A rosy color sweeps the sky,
        A vagrant lark is singing,
     But, as I steal along the trail,
        I know that day is bringing
     A host of red-skins in its train,
        Their tommy-hawks are gleaming—
     I SEE THEM NOW; or can it be
        The first pale sunlight beaming?

     I creep along, but stealthily,
        For, oh, the dawn is coming!
     I creep along—but I have heard
        A flint-tipped arrow, humming....
     And yet, my heart is light, inside,
        My soul, itself, is flying
     To greet the dawn! I AM ALIVE—
        AND WHAT IS DEATH—BUT DYING?





III. THE FARMER

     The dawn is here! I climb the hill;
     The earth is young and strangely still;
     A tender green is showing where
     But yesterday my fields were bare....
     I climb and, as I climb, I sing;
     The dawn is here, and with it—spring!

     My oxen stamp the ground, and they
     Seem glad, with me, that soon the day
     Will bring new work for us to do!
     The light above is clear and blue;
     And one great cloud that swirls on high,
     Seems sent from earth to kiss the sky.

     The birds are coming back again,
     They know that soon the golden grain
     Will wave above this fragrant loam;
     The birds, with singing, hasten home;
     And I, who watch them, feel their song
     Deep in my soul, and nothing wrong,
     Or mean or small, can touch my heart....
     Down in the vale

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