Classic Poem

Ripe fruits and filberts! Over all the land
The hot air travels, bearing music bland
From shining scythe and sickle. Harvest lays
Rise where the white corn, on a hundred hills,
In the broad valleys, by the sparkling rills,
Bends to the joyous reaper; whilst a haze
Of insect incense fills the world with praise.
Wheat-waving August, in thy straw-bright hair
And leafy zone, with juicy fruitage bound,
What loveliness can with thyself compare?
Where dwells a queen so greatly, grandly crown'd?
Where'er thou tread'st, the ripe grapes cluster round.
To Him soars up one universal strain,
Who gives the early and the latter rain.

Ripe fruits and filberts! Over all the land
The hot air travels, bearing music bland
From shining scythe and sickle. Harvest lays
Rise where the white corn, on a hundred hills,
In the broad valleys, by the sparkling rills,
Bends to the joyous reaper; whilst a haze
Of insect incense fills the world with praise.
Wheat-waving August, in thy straw-bright hair
And leafy zone, with juicy fruitage bound,
What loveliness can with thyself compare?
Where dwells a queen so greatly, grandly crown'd?
Where'er thou tread'st, the ripe grapes cluster round.
To Him soars up one universal strain,
Who gives the early and the latter rain.