 | Diana's Looking Glass and Other Poems by Charles D. Bell |  |
59
HARVEST.
Sweet is the breath of the early morn,
And sweet the lark in the sky,
The songs of reapers are heard in the corn,
'Mongst oats and the bearded rye,
Where sickles flash, and sheaves fall fast,
And the ripened grain is gathered at last,
And they joy in the Harvest home,
They joy in the Harvest home.
And sweet the lark in the sky,
The songs of reapers are heard in the corn,
'Mongst oats and the bearded rye,
Where sickles flash, and sheaves fall fast,
And the ripened grain is gathered at last,
And they joy in the Harvest home,
They joy in the Harvest home.
The dews that fell on the August night,
Still shimmer on bough and bud,
And shining bright in the amber light,
Turn to diamonds the leaves of the wood,
And the skies are glass'd in the water clear,
In placid river, and gleaming mere,
Oh, well for the Harvest home,
Oh, well for the Harvest home.
Still shimmer on bough and bud,
And shining bright in the amber light,
Turn to diamonds the leaves of the wood,
And the skies are glass'd in the water clear,
In placid river, and gleaming mere,
Oh, well for the Harvest home,
Oh, well for the Harvest home.
60
The little hills laugh on every side,
The valleys with gladness sing,
All Nature is clad like a queenly bride,
Who robes for her coming king,
Oh, raise the anthem and sing His praise,
Who crowns the year with these Autumn days
And gives us the Harvest home,
And gives us the Harvest home.
The valleys with gladness sing,
All Nature is clad like a queenly bride,
Who robes for her coming king,
Oh, raise the anthem and sing His praise,
Who crowns the year with these Autumn days
And gives us the Harvest home,
And gives us the Harvest home.
| Diana's Looking Glass and Other Poems by Charles D. Bell | |