WHEN nuts behind the hazel-leaf Are brown as the squirrel that hunts them free, And the fields are rich with the sun-burnt sheaf, 'Mid the blue cornflower and the yellowing tree; And the farmer glows and beams in his glee; O then is the season to wed thee a bride! Ere the garners are filled and the ale-cups foam; For a smiling hostess is the pride And flower of every Harvest Home. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FLAMING CIRCLE by LOUIS UNTERMEYER SNOW-FLAKES by MARY ELIZABETH MAPES DODGE POPPIES IN THE WHEAT by HELEN MARIA HUNT FISKE JACKSON EPITAPH ON S.P., A CHILD OF QUEEN ELIZABETH'S CHAPEL by BEN JONSON REVEL by ABUL HASAN OF SANTA MARIA GOLDEN HILL by HAMILTON FISH ARMSTRONG JOHN THE BAPTIST by JOHN STUART BLACKIE |