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In Harvest

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Mown meadows skirt the standing wheat;
I linger, for the hay is sweet,
New-cut and curing in the sun.
Like furrows, straight, the windrows run,
Fallen, gallant ranks that tossed and bent
When, yesterday, the west wind went
A-rioting through grass and grain.
To-day no least breath stirs the plain;
Only the hot air, quivering, yields
Illusive motion to the fields
Where not the slenderest tassel swings.
Across the wheat flash sky-blue wings;
A goldfinch dangles from a tall,
Full-flowered yellow mullein; all
The world seems turning blue and gold.
Unstartled, since, even from of old,
Beauty has brought keen sense of her,
I feel the withering grasses stir;
Along the edges of the wheat,
I hear the rustle of her feet:
And yet I know the whole sea lies,
And half the earth, between our eyes.


Source: The Poems of Sophie Jewett (1910)
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In Harvest

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  • Born in Moravia, New York, poet Sophie Jewett was the daughter of a country doctor. Her childhood was marked by loss and displacement. When she was seven years old, her mother died, and Jewett was summoned from sleep to observe her passing; her father died two years later. After his death, Jewett and her three siblings moved to Buffalo to live with their uncle and grandmother, both of whom died during Jewett’s adolescence.

    Jewett then turned to her minister, the Reverend Wolcott Calkins, and his daughter Mary Whiton Calkins for support. The Calkinses encouraged Jewett’s literary interest, and Mary later co-edited Jewett’s final, posthumous collection of poetry.
    Jewett’s early writing was enhanced by her experiences traveling to England and Italy. Her poetry often finds its shape in the sonnet form, and frequently takes as its subject intimacy between women. Jewett’s poetry collections include The Pilgrim, and Other Poems (1896) and God’s Troubadour...

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