The harvest moon rides in to-night In spite of Summer's plea. Captain-like the corn stalks point To stars above the lea. The South Wind in the valley bides In hopes of curtain-calls, While orchards thud with apple claps In fear of rain-swept falls. High so high the round moon climbs, As I in sheerest frock, Hold close the last frost-bitten rose And silver hollyhock. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SHERMAN'S MARCH TO THE SEA by SAMUEL HAWKINS MARSHALL BYERS LINES INSCRIBED UPON A CUP FORMED FROM A SKULL by GEORGE GORDON BYRON DESERT FLOWERS by KEITH CASTELLAINE DOUGLAS DEATH AND THE LADY; THEIR BARGAIN TOLD AGAIN by LEONIE ADAMS TO ATHENA by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE AT THE FUNERAL OF A MINOR POET by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |