Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs By Walter Thornbury. Illustrated by J. Whistler, F. Walker, John Tenniel, J. D. Watson, W. Small, F. Sandys, G. J. Pinwell, T. Morten, M. J. Lawless, and many others |
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The Harvest Dance.
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 | Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs |  |
The Harvest Dance.
I hear the pipe, now the corn is ripe,
Call all the reapers hither;
The corn-flower blue, so bright with dew,
Shall soon grow pale and wither.
'Mid the golden corn I hear the horn
Answer the distant song,
And the sickle keen by its flash is seen,
In the hands of the reaper strong.
Call all the reapers hither;
The corn-flower blue, so bright with dew,
Shall soon grow pale and wither.
'Mid the golden corn I hear the horn
Answer the distant song,
And the sickle keen by its flash is seen,
In the hands of the reaper strong.
Glad sounds the pipe when the corn is ripe,
Merry among the sheaves,
And the blossom dead 'neath the reapers' tread
Fades fast, as do the leaves.
Our merry train, the ponderous wain
Pile up with bronzed gold,
For the teeming earth to the reapers' mirth
Yieldeth a thousandfold.
Merry among the sheaves,
And the blossom dead 'neath the reapers' tread
Fades fast, as do the leaves.
Our merry train, the ponderous wain
Pile up with bronzed gold,
For the teeming earth to the reapers' mirth
Yieldeth a thousandfold.
At the sound of the pipe when the corn is ripe
The crimson poppy fades,
And yellow grain is level lain
Beneath the sickle-blades.
The timid hare beholds the glare,
And flees at the boding sound,
White the barn's wide doors, by the toiling boors,
Are opened with a bound.
The crimson poppy fades,
And yellow grain is level lain
Beneath the sickle-blades.
The timid hare beholds the glare,
And flees at the boding sound,
White the barn's wide doors, by the toiling boors,
Are opened with a bound.
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Now sound the pipe, for the corn so ripe
Is garnered sure and fast,
Of the grain we've store till the Winter's o'er,
And the snow and rain have passed.
O bright-eyed Joy each shouting boy
Doth ne'er so much entrance,
As when reapers all in order fall,
And 'gin the harvest dance.
Is garnered sure and fast,
Of the grain we've store till the Winter's o'er,
And the snow and rain have passed.
O bright-eyed Joy each shouting boy
Doth ne'er so much entrance,
As when reapers all in order fall,
And 'gin the harvest dance.
| Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs | |