Strange Fruit

This year the grain is heavy--ripe; The apple shows a ruddier stripe; Never berries so profuse Blackened with so sweet a juice On brambly hedges, summer--dyed. The yellow leaves begin to glide; But Earth in careless lap--ful treasures Pledge of over--brimming measures, As if some rich unwonted zest Stirred prodigal within her breast. And now, while plenty's left uncared, The fruit unplucked, the sickle spared, Where men go forth to waste and spill, Toiling to burn, destroy and kill, Lo, also side by side with these Beast--hungers, ravening miseries, The heart of man has brought to birth Splendours richer than his earth. Now in the thunder--hour of fate Each one is kinder to his mate; The surly smile; the hard forbear; There's help and hope for all to share; And sudden visions of goodwill Transcending all the scope of ill Like a glory of rare weather Link us in common light together, A clearness of the cleansing sun, Where none's alone and all are one; And touching each a priceless pain We find our own true hearts again. No more the easy masks deceive: We give, we dare, and we believe.