III
The Ballad of the Student in the
South
It was no sooner than this morn
That first I found you there,
Up to your breast in Southern corn
As golden as your hair.
I had read books you had not read,
Yet was I put to shame
To hear the simple words you said,
That shuddered like a flame.
Shall I forget, when prying dawn
Sends me about my way,
The careless stars, the quiet lawn,
And you with whom I lay?
Darling, a Scholar's fancies sink
All faint beneath your song:
And you are right: why should we think,
We who are young and strong?
We're of the people, you and I,
We do what others do,
Linger and toil, and laugh and die,
And love the whole night through.
11
