Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.
Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand...
Sweet, sweet, sweet,
Is the wind’s song,
Astir in the rippled wheat
All day long.
It hath the brook’s wild gayety,
The sorrowful cry of the sea.
Oh hush and hear!
Sweet, sweet and clear,
Above the locust’s whirr
And hum of bee
Rises that soft, pathetic harmony.
In the meadow-grass
...
From the German by Charles Timothy Brooks
SICKLES sound;
On the ground
Fast the ripe ears fall;
Every maiden’s bonnet
Has blue blossoms on it:
Joy is over all.
Sickles ring,
Maidens sing
To the sickle’s sound;
Till the moon is beaming,
And the stubble gleaming,
Harvest...
1 GOD of the year! with songs of praise
And hearts of love, we come to bless
Thy bounteous hand, for thou hast shed
Thy manna o'er our wilderness.
2 In early spring-time thou didst fling
O'er earth its robe of blossoming;
And its sweet treasures, day by day,
Rose...
