Seed-Time
The fields lie swathed in misty blue; Dim vapors crown the wooded height. From every trembling spray the dew Shoots hack the morning’s quivering light. In, hollows where the tender f®m Uncurls beside the glimmering burn, The cool gray shadows linger yet, To kiss the pale young violet. Hark! singing through the orchard close. And whistling o’er the furrowed plain, ' The lusty sower blithely goes To drop the golden grain. Clear morning sounds are In the ait; - N , ■ The birds their jocund matins swell;' Each stream makes music fine and tart; Each fountain rings its crystal) bell. Sweet from the blooming appletrees, Come elfin quirings of the bees. And from • far uplands, faintly ,bome, Float mollow greetings to the mom. 0 tuneful world! each wind that blows Brings from the field a glad re- ’■ frain, Where singing still, the sower goes And drops his golden grain. ■ ' ■' ‘ ■ —James B. Kenyon, in “Realms of Gold.” :
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/MT19280725.2.75.3
Bibliographic details
Manawatu Times, Volume LIII, Issue 6670, 25 July 1928, Page 10
Word Count
154Seed-Time Manawatu Times, Volume LIII, Issue 6670, 25 July 1928, Page 10
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