Summer is gone and all the merry noise Of busy harvest in its labouring glee; The shouts of toil, the laughs of gleaning boys Sweeing at dinner-hours on willow tree, The cracking whip, the scraps of homely song, Sung by the boys that drive the loaded wain, The noise of geese that haste and hiss along For corn that litters in the narrow lane Torn from the wagon by the hedgerow trees, Tinkles of whetting scythes amid the grain, The bark of dogs stretched at their panting ease, Watching the stook where morning's dinner lay -- All these have passed, and silence at her ease Dreams autumn's melancholy life away. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AFTER APPLE PICKING by ROBERT FROST AT CASTERBRIDGE FAIR: 6. A WIFE WAITS by THOMAS HARDY A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 54 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN BALLAD OF THE GOODLY FERE by EZRA POUND DRINKING SONG, FR. THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL by RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN |