Classic Poem

Low wind ghosts flutter through the rustling corn,
A locust drones in yonder whispering tree,
And where dissolves the misty veil of morn,
The lazy ships sail slowly out to sea
In harvest time.

The scarlet poppies cluster by the road,
The sweeping scythes flash in the falling grass,
And lumbering wagons, with their heavy load,
Along the dusty highways lingering pass
In harvest time.

The radiant sunlight slants among the leaves,
As though no hidden covert it would miss,
Bearing the gold sheen of the garnered sheaves,
To all the ripening apples it may kiss,
In harvest time.

The honeysuckle by the porch is sweet,
And noisy bees wing on from bloom to bloom,
Full loath to leave, for yonder windless heat,
The shade and coolness of the fragrant gloom
In harvest time.

The undulating wheat along the hills,
That shimmers in the sun's refulgent beams,
Its bearded kernels to completeness fills,
And in contented splendor brightly gleams,
In harvest time.

When high the sun in noonday glory rides,
Where willows keep the lake's green margin cool,
The speckled trout amid their shadow hides,
And dragon flies haunt every shaded pool
In harvest time.

The crows are silent in the sombre pines,
And drowsy cattle pace with listless tread
The shallow brooks, that run in silvery lines
Where meadow blossoms flaunt their banners red,
In harvest time.

Where, clothing all the crumbling wall of stone,
The wild grapes show their purple globes of wine,
The butterflies hold carnival alone,
And brilliantly their iris colors shine,
In harvest time.

The oriole, above his swinging nest,
In the knarled pear tree plumes his orange coat,
And, as the sun sinks slowly down the west,
Croons to his mate a low, melodious note,
In harvest time.

The moths make feast where pendulant blossoms sway,
In woods that ring with shrill nocturnal songs,
And while the shadows change to deeper gray,
Some dreaming bird day's jubilant voice prolongs
In harvest time.

Beside the garden path, serenely fair,
Clothed in her garmenture of odorous white,
That wins fresh perfume from the heavy air,
The lily shines, a star amid the night,
In harvest time.

Oh, bounteous season, rich through every hour
In gifts that make our souls with joy a-tune,
The fruitful earth is lavish of her dower
From morning's flush, till glows the mellow moon,
In harvest time.