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...ON BEING ASKED TO WRITE A POEM AGAINST THE WAR IN VIETNAM by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE UNCERTAINTY PRINCIPLE by JAMES GALVIN A BIT OF SKY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CALLING DREAMS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO RICHARD R. WRIGHT - INSTRUCTOR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TRANSPOSITIONS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |