Love’S Harvest

I STAND to gaze across the years’ long fields That have the tinge of Autumn, and their gold Gathered by careful hours on lea and wold; Rich spoils of time that he to Love upyields Who yet amid fair corn his sickle wields, Though harvest’s done, and summer groweth old: Well-storèd barns, and orchards he doth hold Whose wealth against the steely winter shields.

Unto my feet the days, like full-eared sheaves, Have fallen, one by one, time-bound and borne To be the bread of Love through barren days; E’en such dear heritage the sweet year leaves, And life to live again Love’s night and morn Whose light thou art, whose glory is their praise.