Contests with stolid vehemence
The march of culture, setting limb and thorn,
Like pikes, against the army of the corn.
There, while I pause, before mine eyes,
Out of the silent corn-ranks, rise
Inward dignities
And large benignities and insights wise,
Graces and modest majesties.
Thus, without tilth, I house a wondrous yield;
Thus, without theft, I reap another's field,