WHEN nuts behind the hazel-leaf Are brown as the squirrel that hunts them free, And the fields are rich with the sun-burnt sheaf, 'Mid the blue cornflower and the yellowing tree; And the farmer glows and beams in his glee; O then is the season to wed thee a bride! Ere the garners are filled and the ale-cups foam; For a smiling hostess is the pride And flower of every Harvest Home. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...1914: 3. THE DEAD by RUPERT BROOKE THE MERRIMAC by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER HE REMEMBERS FORGOTTEN BEAUTY by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS NIOBE: INEXORABLE DEATH by AESCHYLUS DISCIPLINE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE WOLF AND SHEPHERDS; A FABLE by JAMES BEATTIE AN UNWRITTEN TRAGEDY by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |