HARVEST MOON

“Hush!” was my whisper

At the stair-top

When the waggoners were down below

Home from the barley-crop.

Through the high window

Looked the harvest moon,

While the waggoners sang

A harvest tune,—

“Hush!” was my whisper when

Marjory stept

Down from her attic-room,

A true-love-adept.

“Fill a can, fill a can,”

Waggoners of heart were they,

“Harvest-home, harvest-home,

Barleycorn is home to-day.”...

“Marjory, hush now —

Harvest — you hear?”—

Red was the moon’ s rose

On the full year,

The cobwebs shook, so well

Did the waggoners sing —

“Hush!”— there was beauty at

That harvesting.