The Farm, Poem by Emile Verhaeren

Poem by Emile Verhaeren Period 19th century

To see the farm rise in the distance with its roofs,
Rise, with its tower and its domed ricks
And its barns capped with tiles and thatch,
With its white gables cut at right angles;

To see the farm rise in the distance amid the greenery,
Gleam and spread out in the splendor of the Mays,
When summer warmed it with its rekindled fires
And the brown beeches fanned it with their branches:

So great it seemed, with its rows of ovens,
Its barns, its sheds, its stables, its yards,
Its posterns mottled with old black nails,

Its orchard gleaming with grass and large as a worksite,
Its bulk lording it at the end of three lanes,
That one would have said the hamlet was packed there, entire.

Emile Verhaeren

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