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HARVEST IN THE DALE. |
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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!
Orellana and Other Poems | ||