Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, WINTER MORNING ON THE FARM, by STELLA FLOWERS HASTINGS



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

WINTER MORNING ON THE FARM, by                    
First Line: The sweet fatigue of autumn-time has gone
Last Line: Will disappear, never to return.
Subject(s): Winter


The sweet fatigue of autumn-time has gone:
The hills are now embrowned and gold:
The molten hues of Autumn
Are weaving melting patterns
Far across the meadow-lands.
The towering lonely mountains --
Their crags, their dark ravines
Are smooth and white with snow.
There is a soothing stillness
On the hillside farm,
And the world is so fair
It invokes our mind to prayer --
Our lips to song.

The rocks, the barren trees
The fading Autumn glow --
And the oncoming blight of cold
Causes the scented smoke from Father's house
To form in cloud-like foam in the sky.

From the kitchen come inviting smells,
Of coffee, buckwheat cakes and pork, fried brown.
A morning concert is coming near,
The hurried strides of men
Merge in a passion-song, for happiness.
The hoofs of cattle resound on the frozen ground
And the pastured sheep bleat mournfully.

All the household is astir:
From the back-room door
There is yelling of a boy
And the sharp bark of a dog.
As the door opens, the sun unwinds
And creeps across the sill.
There is certitude and peace on the farm
Yet this glory-weaving morning,
Like the snowflakes on the grass,
Will disappear, never to return.





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