Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, AT HARVEST TIME, by OLIVA WARD BUSH


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

AT HARVEST TIME, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: A sower walked among his fields
Last Line: "for these are ripe at harvest time."
Alternate Author Name(s): Bush-banks, Oliva Ward
Subject(s): Harvest


A Sower walked among his fields
When Spring's fair glory filled the earth;
He scattered seed with eager hand,
And sowing, thought upon their worth.
"These seeds are precious ones," he said.
"The finest flowers shall be mine;
And I shall reap rich, golden grain,
When these are ripe at harvest time."

"I'll watch their growth with earnest care,
And faithfully will till the soil;
With willing hands each passing day
From morn till setting sun I'll toil.
And when the reaping time shall come,
A bounteous Harvest shall be mine;
I shall rejoice at duty done
When these are ripe at Harvest time."

Forth to his fields at Harvest time,
The Sower bent his steps again;
The Reapers' song sang merrily,
Their sickles gleamed 'mid golden grain.
With joyous heart the Sower cried
"Behold, what precious sheaves are mine;
And labor brings its own reward,
For these are ripe at Harvest time."

O Master! in thy fields so fair
We, too, are sowing precious seed.
And like the Sower we will toil
Till golden grain fulfil thy need.
Then shall we hear thy loving voice, --
"Behold! what precious sheaves are mine.
Let all be safely garnered in,
For these are ripe at Harvest time."






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