Сара Тисдейл (Sara Teasdale)

* * *

  Like barley bending
   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.