Hurrahing in Harvest

Summer ends now; now, barbarous in beauty, the stooks riseAround; up above, what wind-walks! what lovely behaviourOf silk-sack clouds! has wilder, wilful-wavierMeal-drift moulded ever and melted across skies?

I walk, I lift up, I lift up heart, eyes,Down all that glory in the heavens to glean our Saviour;And, éyes, heárt, what looks, what lips yet gave you aRapturous love's greeting of realer, of rounder replies?

And the azurous hung hills are his world-wielding shoulderMajestic—as a stallion stalwart, very-violet-sweet!—These things, these things were here and but the beholderWanting; which two when they once meet,The heart rears wings bold and bolderAnd hurls for him, O half hurls earth for him off under his feet.