Flower Pieces and other poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Now is Queen Autumn's progress through the land
Her busy, sunbrown subjects all astir,
Preparing loyally on every hand
A golden triumph. Earth is glad of her.

The regal curtainings of clouds on high,
And shifting splendours of the vaulted air,
Express a jubilation in the sky,
That nobly in the festival doth share.

With arching garlands of unfinger'd green,
And knots of fruit, a bower each highway shows;
Loud busy Joy is herald on the scene
To Gratitude, Contentment, and Repose.

Lately, when this good time was at its best,
One evening found me, with half-wearied pace,
Mounting a hill against the lighted West,
A cool air softly flowing on my face.

The vast and gorgeous pomp of silent sky
Embathed a harvest realm in double gold;
Sheaf-tented fields of bloodless victory;
Stackyards, and cottages in leafy fold,

Whence climb'd the blue smoke-pillars. Grassy hill
And furrow'd land their graver colourings lent;
And some few rows of corn, ungarner'd still,
Like aged men to earth, their cradle, bent.

While reapers, gleaners, and full carts of grain,
With undisturbing motion and faint sound
Fed the rich calm o'er all the sumptuous plain:
Mountains, imbued with violet, were its bound.

Among the sheaves and hedges of the slope,
And harvest-people, I descended slowly,
Field after field, and reach'd a pleasant group
On their own land, that were not strangers wholly.

Here stood the Farmer, sturdy man though gray,
In sober parley with a stalwart son,
Who had been reaping in the rank all day,
And now put on his coat, for work was done.

Two girls, like half-blown roses twin, that breathed
The joy of youth untroubled with a care,
Laugh'd to their five-year nephew, as he wreathed
Red poppies through his younger sister's hair.

Their homestead bounds received me with the rest;
The cheerful mother waiting at the door
Had smiles for all, and welcome for the guest,
And bustling sought the choicest of her store.

O gentle rustic roof, and dainty board!
Kind eyes, frank voices, mirth and sense were there;
Love that went deep, and piety that soar'd;
The children's kisses and the evening pray'r.

Earth's common pleasures, near the ground like grass,
Are best of all; nor die although they fade:
Dear, simple household joys, that straightway pass
The precinct of devotion, undismay'd.

Returning homeward, soften'd, raised, and still'd;
Celestial peace, that rare, transcendent boon,
Fill'd all my soul, as heav'n and earth were fill'd
With bright perfection of the Harvest Moon.