HURRAHING IN HARVEST
Summer énds now; now, bárbarous in béauty, the stóoks ríse
Around; up above, what wind-walks! what lovely behaviour
Of sílk-sack clóuds! has wilder, wilful-wávier
Meal-drift moulded ever and melted across skies?
I wálk, I líft up, Í líft úp heart, éyes,
Down all that glory in the heavens to glean our Saviour;
And, éyes, héart, what looks, what lips yet gáve you a
Rapturous love's greeting of realer, of rounder replies?
And the azurous hung hills are his world-wielding shoulder
Majestic -- as a stallion stalwart, very-violet-sweet! --
These things, these things were here and but the beholder
Wánting; whích two whén they ónce méet,
The heart rears wings bold and bolder,
And hurls for him, O half hurls earth for him off under his feet.
Vale of Clwyd Sept. 1 1877.
Summer énds now; now, bárbarous in béauty, the stóoks ríse
Around; up above, what wind-walks! what lovely behaviour
Of sílk-sack clóuds! has wilder, wilful-wávier
Meal-drift moulded ever and melted across skies?
I wálk, I líft up, Í líft úp heart, éyes,
Down all that glory in the heavens to glean our Saviour;
And, éyes, héart, what looks, what lips yet gáve you a
Rapturous love's greeting of realer, of rounder replies?
And the azurous hung hills are his world-wielding shoulder
Majestic -- as a stallion stalwart, very-violet-sweet! --
These things, these things were here and but the beholder
Wánting; whích two whén they ónce méet,
The heart rears wings bold and bolder,
And hurls for him, O half hurls earth for him off under his feet.
Vale of Clwyd Sept. 1 1877.