A Harvest Song

Behind the scythes a troddon path. Bind, bind the sheaves. Wide and widor grov.-s tho swath. Either side the bright corn heavea Billows of gold. Trees a glory oí bronze and red, Bind, bind the sheaves. Misty sunshine overhead. Through the cheqner of thinning leavce The air is cold. Breath of the coming frost ia thera, Bind, bind the sheaves. Vinea (bat cling to the house grove bare. Swallows leavo thoir nests in the eaves Empty and old. Apple globes, erimson and white, Bind, bind the sheaves. Winnowed grain, sunnily bright (Glittering gold that want relieves), The wide bins hold. Fill tho flagon up to the brim, Bind, bind the sheaves, Until the foam runs over the rim. (It mellowed long where the spider "w eaves In dusk and tnold.) Fill and drink tho eider olear, Bind, bind the sheaves. Bid farewell to the passing year, Close the book with blotted leaves. Their talo is told.