SEEDTIME AND HARVEST.
A sparkling coldness in the morning air
Proclaims the death of summer; without fear,
I greet this herald of the dying year,
Whose icy breath cries; "Winter comes! Prepare!"
Let winter come; for though the wold be bare,
My corn is garnered: now the leaves are sere,
Each orchard-twig droops with its russet tear,
And I greet winter with a harvest prayer.
Proclaims the death of summer; without fear,
I greet this herald of the dying year,
Whose icy breath cries; "Winter comes! Prepare!"
Let winter come; for though the wold be bare,
My corn is garnered: now the leaves are sere,
Each orchard-twig droops with its russet tear,
And I greet winter with a harvest prayer.
The restless hopes of spring have dropped away
In fruitful generation, and desire
Died with the virgin petals' snowy fall,
But many a fruitful hour and glorious day
Close soul to soul, beside the evening fire,
We celebrate with harvest festival.
In fruitful generation, and desire
Died with the virgin petals' snowy fall,
But many a fruitful hour and glorious day
Close soul to soul, beside the evening fire,
We celebrate with harvest festival.
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