Come, here is adieu to the city And hurrah for the country again. The broad road lies before me Watered with last night's rain. The timbered country woos me With many a high and bough; And again in the shining fallows The ploughman follows the plough. The whole year's sweat and study, And the whole year's sowing time, Comes now to the perfect harvest, And ripens now into rhyme. For we that sow in the Autumn, We reap our grain in the Spring, And we that go sowing and weeping Return to reap and sing. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SERVICE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE BLUE-FLAG IN THE BOG by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY by JOHN MILTON MY BED IS A BOAT by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON HE MOURNS FOR THE CHANGE THAT HAS COME UPON HIM AND BELOVED by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |