Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, HARVEST-HOME, by JOHN MCCLURE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

HARVEST-HOME, by                    
First Line: The moon was curving like a sickle
Last Line: To tell her that his heart was broken.
Subject(s): Harvest; Home; Love - Loss Of


The moon was curving like a sickle
Against the grain, to cut it down,
When Thomas learned his love was fickle --
And Thomas, not the grain, was mown.

Gay Thomas, with the welkin crashing,
Went down like barley in his pain:
Gay Thomas saw the sickle flashing,
Gay Thomas knew the grief of grain.

Cut down when full to over flowing,
He knew the agony of wheat,
And harvest-home was bitter going
For Thomas at his sweetheart's feet.

But Thomas, stricken like the barley,
Seeing her laughter, filled his lungs
With bitter moonshine and rose squarely,
Dowered with the gift of tongues.

And every phrase was ever sour
And all harsh words were ever spoken
Gay Thomas uttered in that hour
To tell her that his heart was broken.





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