In Flanders Fields and Other Poems/The Harvest of the Sea

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The Harvest of the Sea by John McCrae

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The Harvest of the Sea

THE earth grows white with harvest; all day long  The sickles gleam, until the darkness weaves Her web of silence o'er the thankful song  Of reapers bringing home the golden sheaves. The wave tops whiten on the sea fields drear,  And men go forth at haggard dawn to reap; But ever 'mid the gleaners' song we hear  The half-hushed sobbing of the hearts that weep.