SUN-TANNED men and women, toiling there to-gether; Seven I count in all, in yon field of wheat, Where the rich ripe ears in the harvest weather Glow an orange gold though the sweltering heat. Busy life is still, sunk in brooding leisure: Birds have hushed their singing in the hushed tree-tops; Not a single cloud mars the flawless azure; Not a shadow moves o'er the moveless crops; In the glassy shallow, that no breath is creasing, Chestnut-coloured cows in the rushes dank Stand like cows of bronze, save when they flick the teasing Flies with switch of tail from each quivering flank. Nature takes a rest -- even her bees are sleeping, And the silent wood seems a church that's shut; But these human creatures cease not from their reaping While the corn stands high, waiting to be cut. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LAMENT FOR THE DEATH OF EOGHAN RUADH (OWEN ROE) O'NEIL by THOMAS OSBORNE DAVIS GEORGE MOSES HORTON, MYSELF by GEORGE MOSES HORTON THE DEATH-BED by SIEGFRIED SASSOON THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER: DECEMBER by EDMUND SPENSER FAUSTINE by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE UNDER MY WINDOW by THOMAS WESTWOOD |