Excerpt from The Harvest Moon and Other Poems

The Harvest Moon

Harvest Hill.

A Line of cliffs, breaking - then slopes
A down to where a river gropes
Lazily among the level farms,
Marge-growing elms spreading their broad arms.
And then a village, snug within
The hollow's cup, which long hath been
The market for the farmers round,
A place where honest thrift is sound.
And from the cliffs a northern course,
Afar, some dread convulsion's force
A shaft hath flung high up athwart
The blue, which like a giant swart
Looks from his smoky curtains out,
A monarch of the world about -

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