Summer, the alchemist, achieves once more An ancient miracle. Soft breezes wave Vast seas of golden grain whose billows lave The far horizon till that shimmering shore Of heaven seems gilded. Sea-blue skies, that soar Above this gleaming world, rest eyes that crave Relief from those too glittering fields which pave The level prairie's checkered, golden floor. Come clicking reapers, hissing sickle bars, The shouts of wearied men, lashes that sting Poor patient beasts; then come the first faint stars— And one day's toil is ended. Wheat, the king, Is a harsh master, but the mighty plain Must blossom swiftly with great shocks of grain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE DEATH OF SWINBURNE by SARA TEASDALE 1914: 5. THE SOLDIER by RUPERT BROOKE IN THE HOLY NATIVITY [OF OUR LORD GOD]; AS SUNG BY SHEPHERDS by RICHARD CRASHAW THE SOCIETY UPON THE STANISLAUS by FRANCIS BRET HARTE THE WEATHER-COCK POINTS SOUTH by AMY LOWELL THE WASHERS OF THE SHROUD; OCTOBER, 1861 by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL |