“Summer ends now; now, barbarous in beauty, the stooks arise    Around; up above, what wind-walks! what lovely behaviour    Of silk-sack clouds! has wilder, wilful-wavier Meal-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, eyes, heart, what looks, what lips yet gave … Continue reading Hurrahing in Harvest–A Poem I Did Not Write