In Fruit-Time.

Yellow the harvest-fields with golden grain,1
And the white-bearded bending barley-ears2
Nod in the soft south breeze : the poppy hides3
Her scarlet glory from the noon-day sun,4
Amid their sheltering stems: the clover patch5
Is flushed with roseate glories—and the lark,6
His speckled breast gemmed with the morning dew,7
Springs up with clear shrill note, all-jubilant8
Toward the broad blue heavens : the quivering oats9
Rustle their waving pennons, and the vetch10
Her purple petals shews.
The orchard-lands11
Teem with a wealth of fruit ; the russet pear12
Neighbours the red-streaked apple ; dark-blue plums13
Their luscious tears let fall; greengages swell14
Beside the bloomy damsons ; apricots15
(Their golden globes leaf-hidden on the wall)16
Perfume the air ; and the pink, downy peach17
Vies with the rosy-tinted nectarine18
In dainty fragrance.
Ripening hang the nuts19
Upon the laden boughs : the clusters brown20
Of russet hazels ; the spiked bursting husks21
Of polished chestnuts ; and the teeming store22
Of mellow walnuts. Autumn-tide hath come,23
And pours from out her overflowing horn24
Her welcome blessings on the grateful Earth !25