In Sunflower Time
IN the farmhouse kitchen were Nan and John,
With only the sunflowers looking on.
Now, a farm-house kitchen is scarce the place
For a knight or lady of courtly grace.
But this was a common, everyday pair
That held the old kitchen, this morning fair.
A persistent and saucy thorn-tree limb
Had sacrified a part of the brim
Of the youth’s straw hat, so his face was brown,
Save his well-shaped forehead, which wore a frown,
And his boots were splashed with the mud and clay
Of the marsh land pastures, over the way,
Where the alders tall, and the spicewood grew,
And the frogs croaked noisily all night through.