In Midsummer
Watching the reaper in the harvest field —
The mingled pathos of the falling grain,
And Summer's glory, now so soon to wane —
A new life-picture seems to me revealed: —
How gently Nature's leading is concealed!
How deftly she deceives the eye and brain,
While airs and scents, intoxicating, feign
A youth time in the Year so soon to yield!
As we implore no Season to delay,
But follow eagerly the brave advance
Of bird and bud, of kernel, fruit, and frost;
So, kindly, Fate beguiles our haunted way
With dear Delusions, that before us dance
And pipe the music of " The World Well Lost. "
The mingled pathos of the falling grain,
And Summer's glory, now so soon to wane —
A new life-picture seems to me revealed: —
How gently Nature's leading is concealed!
How deftly she deceives the eye and brain,
While airs and scents, intoxicating, feign
A youth time in the Year so soon to yield!
As we implore no Season to delay,
But follow eagerly the brave advance
Of bird and bud, of kernel, fruit, and frost;
So, kindly, Fate beguiles our haunted way
With dear Delusions, that before us dance
And pipe the music of " The World Well Lost. "
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