Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, HARVEST SONG, by RICHARD DEHMEL



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

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HARVEST SONG, by            
First Line: A field of golden wheat there grows
Last Line: Grind, o mill, keep grinding!
Subject(s): Fields; Harvest; Rain; Pastures; Meadows; Leas


A FIELD of golden wheat there grows,
Even to the world's end it goes.
Grind, O mill, keep grinding!

The wind falters in all the land,
The mills on the horizon stand.
Grind, O mill, keep grinding!

The evening sky turns somber red;
Many poor people cry for bread.
Grind, O mill, keep grinding!

The night's womb holds a storm within;
To-morrow shall the task begin.
Grind, O mill, keep grinding!

The storm shall sweep the fields of earth
Until no man cries out for dearth!
Grind, O mill, keep grinding!





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