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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420718" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Huskers</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">IT was late in mild October, and the long autumnal rain<br>Had left the summer harvest-fields all green with grass again;<br>The first sharp frosts had fallen, leaving all the woodlands gay<br>With the hues of summer's rainbow, or the meadow flowers of May.<br>Through a thin, dry mist, that morning, the sun rose broad and red,<br>At first a rayless disk of fire, he brightened as he sped;<br>Yet, even his noontide glory fell chastened and subdued,<br>On the cornfields and the orchards, and softly pictured wood.<br>And all that quiet afternoon, slow sloping to the night,<br>He wove with golden shuttle the haze with yellow light;<br>Slanting through the painted beeches, he glorified the hill;<br>And, beneath it, pond and meadow lay brighter, greener still.<br>And shouting boys in woodland haunts caught glimpses of that sky,<br>Flecked by the many-tinted leaves, and laughed, they knew not why;<br>And school-girls, gay with aster-flowers, beside the meadow brooks,<br>Mingled the glow of autumn with the sunshine of sweet looks.<br>From spire and barn looked westerly the patient weathercocks;<br>But even the birches on the hill stood motionless as rocks.<br>No sound was in the woodlands, save the squirrel's dropping shell,<br>And the yellow leaves among the boughs, low rustling as they fell.<br>The summer grains were harvested; the stubblefields lay dry,<br>Where June winds rolled, in light and shade, the pale green waves of rye;<br>But still, on gentle hill-slopes, in valleys fringed with wood,<br>Ungathered, bleaching in the sun, the heavy corn crop stood.<br>Bent low, by autumn's wind and rain, through husks that, dry and sere,<br>Unfolded from their ripened charge, shone out the yellow ear;<br>Beneath, the turnip lay concealed, in many a verdant fold,<br>And glistened in the slanting light the pumpkin's sphere of gold.<br>There wrought the busy harvesters; and many a creaking wain<br>Bore slowly to the long barn-floor is load of husk and grain;<br>Till broad and red, as when he rose, the sun sank down, at last,<br>And like a merry guest's farewell, the day in brightness passed.<br>And lo! as through the western pines, on meadow, stream, and pond,<br>Flamed the red radiance of a sky, set all afire beyond,<br>Slowly o'er the eastern sea-bluffs a milder glory shone,<br>And the sunset and the moonrise were mingled into one!<br>As thus into the quiet night the twilight lapsed away,<br>And deeper in the brightening moon the tranquil shadows lay;<br>From many a brown old farm-house, and hamlet without name,<br>Their milking and their home-tasks done, the merry huskers came.<br>Swung o'er the heaped-up harvest, from pitchforks in the mow,<br>Shone dimly down the lanterns on the pleasant scene below;<br>The growing pile of husks behind, the golden ears before,<br>And laughing eyes and busy hands and brown cheeks glimmering o'er.<br>Half hidden, in a quiet nook, serene of look and heart,<br>Talking their old times over, the old men sat apart;<br>While up and down the unhusked pile, or nestling in its shade,<br>At hide-and-seek, with laugh and shout, the happy children played.<br>Urged by the good host's daughter, a maiden young and fair,<br>Lifting to light her sweet blue eyes and pride of soft brown hair,<br>The master of the village school, sleek of hair and smooth of tongue,<br>To the quaint tune of some old psalm, a husking-ballad sung.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Greenleaf+Whittier">John Greenleaf Whittier</a><div class=q>
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<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=420718" data-title="The Huskers de John Greenleaf Whittier" data-description="IT was late in mild October, and the long autumnal rain
Had left the summer harvest-fields all green with grass again;
The first sharp frosts had fallen, leaving all the woodlands gay
With the hues of summer's rainbow, or the meadow flowers of May..."></div>
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