Man's harvest is past, his summer is ended, Hope and fear are finished at last, Day hath descended, night hath ascended, Man's harvest is past. Time is fled that fleeted so fast: All the unmended remains unmended, The perfect, perfect: all lots are cast. Waiting till earth and ocean be rended, Waiting for call of the trumpet blast, Each soul at goal of that way it wended, -- Man's harvest is past. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DINING-ROOM TEA by RUPERT BROOKE MONT BLANC; LINES WRITTEN IN THE VALE OF CHAMOUNI by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY A HIGH-TONED OLD CHRISTIAN WOMAN by WALLACE STEVENS THE FOLLY OF BEING COMFORTED by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 20. AL-'ALIM by EDWIN ARNOLD ODE ON LORD HAY'S BIRTHDAY by JAMES BEATTIE THE LOUD SILENCE by SUSIE MONTGOMERY BEST |