TO A RED- IVHEA T FIELD

[ZaunköniG]

TO A RED- IVHEA T FIELD.

O rich red wheat ! thou wilt not long defer
Thy beauty, though thou art not wholly grown ;
The fair blue distance and the moorland fir
Long for thy golden laughter ! Four years gone,
How oft ! with eager foot, I scaled the top
Of this long rise, to give mine eye full range ;
And, now again, rotation brings the change
From seeds and clover, to my favourite crop ;
How oft I've watch'd thee from my garden, charm'd
With thy noon-stillness, or thy morning tears !
Or, when the wind clove and the sunset warm'd
Thine amber-shafted depths and russet ears ;
O ! all ye cool green stems ! improve the time,
Fulfil your beauty ! justify my rhyme !