A Harvest Song

The toil of day is ended, The nigbt isat hisnoon; And the haryest song swells bhthely up Ueneath the harvest nioon : Then tread a quicker measure, And chant a louder strain With dance and soug, the days prolong That briugs the golden graiu. Froni out thedistant mountain Comes the voice of the cascade, And the ncarer gleam of its silver stream Makes glad the silent glade ; Through all the shadowy forest Is heard the fall of leaves- And the timid hare treads stealthily Among the nodding sheaves. And now, on every hillside, The purple vintage glows ; As when a dee]er radiance falls From daylight at its close ; No time is it for sadness, Bespondency or fear, When Autumn comes in gladness, ïo crown the fruitful year. Dear is the pleasant leaf-time, When all is soft aroiind - Whep frc3t-imprisoned rivulets Are melting into sound, And dear, too, is the season When Spring and Summer meet ; When the woods are taint with odors, And the liills are dim with heat. But Spring is but for-pasture, And flummcr but for show ; Wliile Autumn, like a crownedking, Has riches to bestow ; So he shall be the monarch Of all the shining year, And a crown he shail wear, and a scepter bear Of fiuits, and the golden ear.