The harvest moon rides in to-night In spite of Summer's plea. Captain-like the corn stalks point To stars above the lea. The South Wind in the valley bides In hopes of curtain-calls, While orchards thud with apple claps In fear of rain-swept falls. High so high the round moon climbs, As I in sheerest frock, Hold close the last frost-bitten rose And silver hollyhock. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN LOVE WAS BORN by SARA TEASDALE TO HIS FORSAKEN MISTRESS by ROBERT AYTON SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 27 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT by ROBERT BURNS LINES INSCRIBED UPON A CUP FORMED FROM A SKULL by GEORGE GORDON BYRON CHURCH MONUMENTS by GEORGE HERBERT TO A YOUNG MAN ON THE PLATFORM OF A SUBWAY EXPRESS by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |