Scent of new-mown hay, Golden fields of wheat and oats, Sudden downpour of mud and water As cloudbursts hit the mountainside; The pink of wild roses, white of mariposa, Weary teams down to the creek for water, Canopy of stars that can almost be touched, Sickle moon with a bright star cuddled close. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WIZARD IN WORDS by MARIANNE MOORE A PSALM OF TRAVEL by GEORGE SANTAYANA A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 2 by THOMAS CAMPION A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 18 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE VANITY OF THE WORLD by FRANCIS QUARLES HER FIRST-BORN by CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER THE ITALICS ARE RICHARD GIFFORD'S by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE CLOUDS: THE OLD EDUCATION by ARISTOPHANES VERSES TO HER WHO IS JUSTLY ENTITLED TO THEM by BERNARD BARTON |