A Song For Merry Harvest



Bring forth the harp, and let us sweep

its fullest, loudest string.

The bee below, the bird above, are

teaching us to sing

A song for merry harvest; and the one

who will not bear

His grateful part partakes a boon he

ill deserves to share.

The grasshopper is pouring forth his

quick and trembling notes;

The laughter of the gleaner’s child,

the heart’s own music Hoats.

Up! up! I say, a roundelay from every

voice that lives

Should welcome merry harvest, and

bless the God that gives.

Is the pudding done?

Hurrah for the pumpkin-pie!”

Eliza Cook


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