 | Orellana and Other Poems |  |
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XVIII. HARVEST IN THE DALE.
A million fields to-day are standing whiteOver the north of Europe: here is one,
And three bright sickles circling in the sun
Will have the little crop cut down ere night.
The girl is singing, for her heart is light;
But the two brothers think it best to shun
The guise of gladness till the work be done
And they have earned a reason and a right;
Yet they are glad: God of the bounteous Year,
What pleasure must be Thine to look from heaven
Into a thousand happy dales, and hear
From out the barren rocks, where man has striven,
The voices of Thy children far and near
Rejoicing in the gifts which Thou hast given!
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