The Harvest of the Sea
The earth grows white with harvest; all day longThe sickles gleam, until the darkness weavesHer web of silence o’er the thankful songOf reapers bringing home the golden sheaves.
The wave tops whiten on the sea fields drear,And men go forth at haggard dawn to reap;But ever ‘mid the gleaners’ song we hearThe half-hushed sobbing of the hearts that weep.