Harvest Time

Pillowed and hushed on the silent plain,
Wrapped in her mantle of golden grain,

Wearied of pleasuring weeks away,
Summer is lying asleep to-day,--

Where winds come sweet from the wild-rose briers
And the smoke of the far-off prairie fires;

Yellow her hair as the goldenrod,
And brown her cheeks as the prairie sod;

Purple her eyes as the mists that dream
At the edge of some laggard sun-drowned stream;

But over their depths the lashes sweep,
For Summer is lying to-day asleep.

The north wind kisses her rosy mouth,
His rival frowns in the far-off south,

And comes caressing her sunburnt cheek,
And Summer awakes for one short week,--

Awakes and gathers her wealth of grain,
Then sleeps and dreams for a year again.

by Emily Pauline Johnson

Other poems of JOHNSON (96)

Comments (17)

Autumn is my favorite season too, although autumn here in this part of the world is quite different from that of the poet's land. We have autumn now- a lovely season. Thanks to Adrian Flett, Petals Azureblue and Glen Kappy for their comments, which helped me understand and appreciate the poem fully. Special thanks to Sylvia Frances Chan for her elaborate comments.
Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful... What a wonderful lovely write
Fantastic Poem on the season we all wait and love, rightly said after the season it is the wait for one long year...............
FIVE: WE as DUTCH POETS want to say: CONGRATULATIONS being chosen as Classic Poem Of The Day! We are proud that your poems have become IMMORTAL. So good to have read your poems, due to the Poemhunter. Poem site here. Gratefully yours, Sylvia FC
FOUR: The Johnsons enjoyed a high standard of living, and their family and home were well known. Chiefswood was visited by such intellectual and political guests as the inventor Alexander Graham Bell, painter Homer Watson, noted anthropologist Horatio Hale, and Lady and Lord Dufferin, Governor General of Canada.
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