The Stranger at the Gate
Neihardt, John G.
To Mothers
CONTENTS
* THE WEAVERS 1
* THE STORY 4
* THE NEWS 8
* IN THE NIGHT 10
* BREAK OF DAY 13
* DAWN SONG 16
* END OF SUMMER 18
* VISION 20
* TRIUMPH 23
* HERITAGE 24
* LULLABY 26
* THE POET'S TOWN 29
* PRAIRIE STORM RUNE 41
* THE GHOSTLY BROTHER 49
* THE POET'S ADVICE 52
* MORNING GLORIES 55
* THE LYRIC 57
* GLAUCUS 58
* MONEY 63
* THE RED WIND COMES 64
* CRY OF THE PEOPLE 67
Page 1
The Stranger At the Gate
I
THE WEAVERS
SUNS flash, stars drift,
Comes and goes the moon;
Ever through the wide miles
Corn fields croon
Patiently, hopefully,
A low, slow tune.
Lovingly, longingly,
Labors without rest
Every happy cornstalk,
Weaving at its breast
Such a cozy cradle
For the coming guest.
In the flowing pastures,
Where the cattle feed,
Such a hidden love-storm,
Dying into seed --
Blue grass, slough grass,
Wild flower, weed!
Page 2
Mark the downy flower-coats
In the hollyhocks!
Hark, the cooing Wheat-Soul
Weaving for her flocks!
Croon time, June time,
Moon of baby frocks!
Rocking by the window,
Wrapt in visionings,
Lo, the gentle mother
Sews and sings,
Shaping to a low song
Wee, soft things!
Patiently, hopefully,
Early, late,
How the wizard fingers
Weave with Fate
For the naked youngling
Crying at the Gate!
Sound, sight, day, night
Fade, flee thence;
Vanished is the brief, hard
World of sense:
Hark! Is it the plump grape
Crooning from the fence?
Droning of the surf where
Far seas boom?
Page 3
Chanting of the weird stars
Big with Doom?
Humming of the god-flung
Shuttles of a loom?
O'er the brooding Summer
A green hush clings,
Save the sound of weaving
Wee, soft things:
Everywhere a mother
Weaves and sings.
Page 4
II
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