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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=373459" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Harvest</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sun on the mountain,<br>Shade in the valley,<br>Ripple and lightness<br>Leaping along the world,<br>Sun, like a gold sword<br>Plucked from the scabbard,<br>Striking the wheat-fields,<br>Splendid and lusty,<br>Close-standing, full-headed,<br>Toppling with plenty;<br>Shade, like a buckler<br>Kindly and ample,<br>Sweeping the wheat-fields<br>Darkening and tossing;<br>There on the world-rim<br>Winds break and gather<br>Heaping the mist<br>For the pyre of the sunset;<br>And still as a shadow,<br>In the dim westward,<br>A cloud sloop of amethyst<br>Moored to the world<br>With cables of rain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Acres of gold wheat<br>Stir in the sunshine,<br>Rounding the hill-top,<br>Crested with plenty,<br>Filling the valley,<br>Brimmed with abundance,<br>Wind in the wheat-field<br>Eddying and settling,<br>Swaying it, sweeping it,<br>Lifting the rich heads,<br>Tossing them soothingly<br>Twinkle and shimmer<br>The lights and the shadowings,<br>Nimble as moonlight<br>Astir in the mere.<br>Laden with odors<br>Of peace and of plenty,<br>Soft comes the wind<br>From the ranks of the wheat-field,<br>Bearing a promise <br>Of harvest and sickle-time,<br>Opulent threshing-floors<br>Dusty and dim <br>With the whirl of the flail,<br>And wagons of bread,<br>Sown-laden and lumbering<br>Through the gateways of cities.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When will the reapers <br>Strike in their sickles,<br>Bending and grasping,<br>Shearing and spreading;<br>When will the gleaners<br>Searching the stubble<br>Take the last wheat-heads<br>Home in their arms ?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ask not the question! -<br>Something tremendous<br>Moves to the answer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hunger and poverty<br>Heaped like the ocean<br>Welters and mutters,<br>Hold back the sickles!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Millions of children<br>Born to their mothers' womb,<br>Starved at the nipple, cry,--<br>Ours is the harvest!<br>Millions of women <br>Learned in the tragical<br>Secrets of poverty,<br>Sweated and beaten, cry,--<br>Hold back the sickles!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Millions of men<br>With a vestige of manhood,<br>Wild-eyed and gaunt-throated,<br>Shout with a leonine<br>Accent of anger,<br>Leaves us the wheat-fields!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When will the reapers <br>Strike in their sickles?<br>Ask not the question;<br>Something tremendous<br>Moves to the answer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Long have they sharpened<br>Their fiery, impetuous<br>Sickles of carnage,<br>Welded them aeons<br>Ago in the mountains<br>Of suffering and anguish;<br>Hearts were their hammers <br>Blood was their fire,<br>Sorrow their anvil,<br>(Trusty the sickle<br>Tempered with tears;)<br>Time they had plenty-<br>Harvests and harvests<br>Passed them in agony,<br>Only a half-filled<br>Ear for their lot;<br>Man that has taken<br>God for a master<br>Made him a law,<br>Mocked him and cursed him,<br>Set up this hunger,<br>Called it necessity,<br>Put in the blameless mouth<br>Juda's language:<br>The poor ye have with you<br>Always, unending.<br>But up from the impotent<br>Anguish of children,<br>Up from the labor<br>Fruitless, unmeaning,<br>Of millions of mothers,<br>Hugely necessitous,<br>Grew by a just law<br>Stern and implacable,<br>Art born of poverty,<br>The making of sickles<br>Meet for the harvest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And now to the wheat-fields<br>Come the weird reapers<br>Armed with their sickles,<br>Whipping them keenly<br>In the fresh-air fields,<br>Wild with the joy of them,<br>Finding them trusty,<br>Hilted with teen.<br>Swarming like ants,<br>The Idea for captain,<br>No banners, no bugles,<br>Only a terrible<br>Ground-bass of gathering<br>Tempest and fury,<br>Only a tossing<br>Of arms and of garments;<br>Sexless and featureless,<br>(Only the children<br>Different among them,<br>Crawling between their feet,<br>Borne on their shoulders;)<br>Rolling their shaggy heads<br>Wild with the unheard-of<br>Drug of the sunshine;<br>Tears that had eaten<br>The half of their eyelids<br>Dry on their cheeks;<br>Blood in their stiffened hair<br>Clouted and darkened;<br>Down in their cavern hearts<br>Hunger the tiger,<br>Leaping, exulting;<br>Sighs that had choked them<br>Burst into triumphing;<br>On they come, Victory!<br>Up to the wheat-fields,<br>Dreamed of in visions<br>Bred by the hunger,<br>Seen for the first time<br>Splendid and golden;<br>On they come fluctuant,<br>Seething and breaking,<br>Weltering like fire<br>In the pit of the earthquake,<br>Bursting in heaps<br>With the sudden intractable<br>Lust of the hunger:<br>Then when they see them-<br>The miles of the harvest<br>White in the sunshine,<br>Rushing and stumbling,<br>With the mighty and clamorous<br>Cry of a people<br>Starved from creation,<br>Hurl themselves onward,<br>Deep in the wheat-fields,<br>Weeping like children,<br>After ages and ages,<br>Back at the mother the earth.<br>Night in the valley,<br>Gloom on the mountain,<br>Wind in the wheat,<br>Far to the southward<br>The flutter of lightning,<br>The shudder of thunder;<br>But high at the zenith,<br>A cluster of stars<br>Glimmers and throbs<br>In the gasp of the midnight,<br>Steady and absolute,<br>Ancient and sure</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Duncan+Campbell+Scott">Duncan Campbell Scott</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=373459" data-title="The Harvest de Duncan Campbell Scott" data-description="Sun on the mountain, Shade in the valley, Ripple and lightness Leaping along the world, Sun, like a gold sword Plucked from the scabbard, Striking the wheat-fields, Splendid and lusty, Close-standing, full-headed, Toppling with plenty; Shade, like..."></div> </div> </div>
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