Maize in Tassel

The blades of maize are broad and green,
The farm-roof scarcely shows between
The long and softly-rustling rows
Through which the farmer homeward goes.
The blue smoke curling through the trees,
The children round their mother's knees,
He sees, and .thanks God while he sees.
He holds one in his sturdy hands
Aloft, when at the threshold stands
(None noticed whence) a stranger. "Dame,"
The stranger said, as half with shame
He made request; "astray and poor,
By hunger guided to your door,
I" — "Hush," she answer'd, "say no more!"
The farmer set the prattler down —
(Soft heart, although his hands were brown !)
With words of welcome brought and pour'd
Cool water from the spring: the board
The wife set out. What mellow light
Made the mean hovel's walls as white
As snow! how sweet their bread that night!
Long while their humble lot had been
To dwell with poverty: between
Them all one pallet and a bed
Were shared. But to the latter led,
The guest in peaceful slumber lay,
While, with what broken sleep they may,
The dame and host await the day.
So pass'd the night. At length the dawn
Arrived, and show'd the stranger gone.
To none had e'er been closed their door
Who ask'd for alms; yet none before
Had so much lack'd in courtesy.
So spoke the wife. Her husband, he
Sat musing by most anxiously —
Of sterner need. A drought that year
Prevail'd, and though the corn in ear
Began to swell, must perish all
Unless a kindly rain should fall.
God send it straight! — or toil from morn
To eve, the hoard of buried corn,
Ay, food itself, were lost and gone.
Such thoughts now bring him to the door:
Perchance some cloud sails up before
The morning breeze. None — none; in vain
His eyes explore the blue again:
With sighs to earth returns his gaze.
Ha! what is here! — to God be praise!
See, see the glad drops on the maize!
No mist had dimm'd the night, and yet
The furrows all lay soft and wet,
As if with frequent showers; nay,
More — all bloom that shuns the day,
And tassel tall, and ear and blade,
With heavy drops were downward weighed,
And a swift stream the pathway fray'd.
Long while might I prolong this strain,
Relating thence how great his gain;
How he who held not from the poor,
Now saw his corncribs running o'er;
And how his riches grew amain,
And on his hillside ripen'd grain
When parch'd was that within the plain.
But who the guest was of that night
Conjecture thou — I dare not write.
We know that angels, with the mien
Of men, of men the guests have been;
That he who giveth to the poor,
Lends to the Lord. (I am not sure — )
The promise here deep meaning bore.