 | The Harvest |  |
Thus Roddam's Harvest pass'd away,
Thus dawn'd its last, and merriest day.
That day the master's bosom glow'd
With love superior to his God.
Who thus had given the sun to smile
So sweet at last as all the while.
And not that sun a kinder glance
Threw o'er the landscape's fair expanse,
Diffusing health, content, and joy,
Than beam'd that day from Albert's eye;
Giving among his social train
More than their usual mirth to reign.
To sing that mirth were but to stay
The closing notes of tedious lay;
Each fancy, therefore, must pourtray
That day's superior glee;
How danced, by turns, the Harvest boon
From early morn to glowing noon,
While played the fiddle many a tune
Behind them merrily;
How Nelson laugh'd—how Ellen wheeled—
How gracefully our lovers reeled—
While, echoing, rung from field to field
Shouts of their revelry.
Thus dawn'd its last, and merriest day.
That day the master's bosom glow'd
With love superior to his God.
Who thus had given the sun to smile
So sweet at last as all the while.
And not that sun a kinder glance
Threw o'er the landscape's fair expanse,
Diffusing health, content, and joy,
Than beam'd that day from Albert's eye;
Giving among his social train
More than their usual mirth to reign.
76
The closing notes of tedious lay;
Each fancy, therefore, must pourtray
That day's superior glee;
How danced, by turns, the Harvest boon
From early morn to glowing noon,
While played the fiddle many a tune
Behind them merrily;
How Nelson laugh'd—how Ellen wheeled—
How gracefully our lovers reeled—
While, echoing, rung from field to field
Shouts of their revelry.
| The Harvest | |