Explore "The Harvest Moon" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I. Globed in Heav'n's tree of azure, golden mellow / As some round apple hung / High in hesperian boughs, thou hangest yellow / The branch-like mists among: / Within thy light a sunburnt youth, named Health, / Rests 'mid the tasseled shocks, the tawny stubble; / And by his side, clad on with rustic wealth / Of field and farm, beneath thy amber bubble, / A nut-brown maid, Content, sits smiling still: / While through the quiet trees, / The mossy rocks, the grassy hill, / Thy silvery spirit glides to yonder mill, / Around whose wheel the breeze / And shimmering ripples of the water play, / As, by their mother, little children may.
II. Sweet spirit of the moon, who walkest, -- lifting / Exhaustless on thy arm, / A pearly vase of fire, -- through the shifting / Cloud-halls of calm and storm, / Pour down thy blossoms! let me hear them come, / Pelting with noiseless light the twinkling thickets, / Making the darkness audible with the hum / Of many insect creatures, grigs and crickets: / Until it seems the elves hold revelries / By haunted stream and grove; / Or, in the night's deep peace, / The young-old presence of Earth's full increase / Seems telling thee her love, / Ere, lying down, she turns to rest, and smiles, / Hearing thy heart beat through the myriad miles.