 | By The Way |  |
Large squares of tawny corn
Stood waiting for the hook;
On fields already shorn
Was ranged the tented stook;
The sky spread gray
But warm, the day
Had a quiet happy look;
And Matron Earth rejoiced in her increase,
At peace.
Fields are lone,
Swallows flown,
Dead leaves on the pathway strown—
Stood waiting for the hook;
On fields already shorn
Was ranged the tented stook;
The sky spread gray
But warm, the day
Had a quiet happy look;
And Matron Earth rejoiced in her increase,
At peace.
44
Swallows flown,
Dead leaves on the pathway strown—
| By The Way | |