Page:Thirty poems (IA thirtypoems00bryarich).pdf/66

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POEMS.
II.Fling wide the generous grain; we flingO'er the dark mould the green of spring.For thick the emerald blades shall grow,When first the March winds melt the snow,And to the sleeping flowers, below, The early bluebirds sing.Fling wide the grain; we give the fields The ears that nod in summer's gale,The shining stems that summer gilds, The harvest that o'erflows the vale,And swells, an amber sea, betweenThe full-leaved woods, its shores of green.Hark! from the murmuring clods I hearGlad voices of the coming your;The song of him who binds the grain,The shout of those that load the wain,And from the distant grange there comes The clatter of the thresher's flail,And steadily the millstone hums Down in the willowy vale.
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