The Silence of Unlaboured Fields

The silence of unlaboured fields Lies like a judgment on the air: A human voice is never heard: The sighing grass is everywhere-- The sighing grass, the shadowed sky, The cattle crying wearily!

Where are the lowland people gone? Where are the sun-dark faces now? The love that kept the quiet hearth, The strength that held the speeding plough? Grasslands and lowing herds are good, But better human flesh and blood!