My harvest is done, its promise is ended, Weak and watery sets the sun, Day and night in one mist are blended, My harvest is done. Long while running, how short when run, Time to eternity has descended, Timeless eternity has begun. Was it the narrow way that I wended? Snares and pits was it mine to shun? The scythe has fallen, so long suspended, My harvest is done. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CASSANDRA by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON NORTH-WEST PASSAGE: 3. IN PORT by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON WHY? by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON GRISELDA: CHAPTER 4 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE GOLDEN ODES OF PRE-ISLAMIC ARABIA: ANTARA by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT ON MISS J. SCOTT OF AYR by ROBERT BURNS |