Full often as I rove by path or stile, To watch the harvest ripening in the vale, Slowly and sweetly, like a growing smile -- A smile that ends in laughter -- the quick gale Upon the breadths of gold-green wheat descends; While still the swallow, with unbaffled grace, About his viewless quarry dips and bends -- And all the fine excitement of the chase Lies in the hunter's beauty: in the eclipse Of that brief shadow, how the barley's beard Tilts at the passing gloom, and wild-rose dips Among the white-tops in the ditches reared: And hedgerows; flowery breast of lacework stirs Faintly in that full wind that rocks the outstanding firs. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FLESH AND THE SPIRIT by ANNE BRADSTREET THE POTATOES' DANCE by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY BEREAVED by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY THE PORTRAIT by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE LAMENT OF THE FLOWERS by JONES VERY A TOMB BY THE SEA by ASCLEPIADES OF SAMOS SILENUS IN PROTEUS by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |