When the Summer fields are mown, When the birds are fledged and flown, And the dry leaves strew the path; With the falling of the snow, With the cawing of the crow, Once again the fields we mow And gather in the aftermath. Not the sweet, new grass with flowers Is this harvesting of ours; Not the upland clover bloom; But the rowen mixed with weeds, Tangled tufts from marsh and meads, Where the poppy drops its seeds In the silence and the gloom. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THEY SAY - . by JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER F. DE SAMARA TO A.G.A. by EMILY JANE BRONTE DARKNESS by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE RAINY SUMMER by ALICE MEYNELL STANZAS OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF H-- A-- by BERNARD BARTON THE SECOND BROTHER; ACT 2, SCENE 1 by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE MAN OF PEACE by BLISS CARMAN TO CHLOE, WHO WISHED HERSELF YOUNG ENOUGH FOR ME by WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT |