Like Barley Bending
Sara Teasdale
Like barley bending
In low fields by the sea,
Singing in hard wind
Ceaselessly;
In low fields by the sea,
Singing in hard wind
Ceaselessly;
Like barley bending
And rising again,
So would I, unbroken,
Rise from pain;
So would I softly,
Day long, night long,
Change my sorrow
Into song.