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Over Fields of Fruitless Corn | by Loren Zemlicka
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Over Fields of Fruitless Corn

© 2012 Loren Zemlicka

  

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"Pale, without name or number,

In fruitless fields of corn,

They bow themselves and slumber

All night till light is born ;

And like a soul belated,

In hell and heaven unmated,

By cloud and mist abated

Comes out of darkness morn."

 

- Exerpt from "The Garden of Proserpine" by Algernon Charles Swinburne

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Taken on September 4, 2012