Cicada notes repeating light, the field-winds full and mellow,
And chording crickets keep tonight my still-roofed country town.
Her sprinkled turf breathes sweet tonight. Her even lamps bloom yellow
Along the leafy street tonight, broad-shadowed, fresh and brown.
A step comes down the highway; a step goes down the by-way
From Thursday night towards Friday, down my dark-roofed country town—
Walks free towards far tomorrows, unguessed success and sorrows
Along the gabled street tonight, all velvet-ridged and brown.
Cicada chords and crickets keep still time. Burn, lamps, burn yellow.
Breathe, prairie fragrance cool tonight, from wide-rolled swale and down.
Blow, highland wind. Blow, lowland wind. Rise, marsh-wind, rich and mellow.
I think my country's soul tonight walks through my country town.