Harvest by "J. G."

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See the golden corn is waving,
   Fann'd by every gentle breeze;
And the sun's fierce rays are shining,
   Shining through the tall gum trees.

Yonder see a group of reapers,
   Resting in a tree's cool shade;
Rest they want -- for well they earned it --
   Toiling with the sickle's blade.

Soon as dawn's first light appeared
   They to labour came away,
Shaking off, the silvery dewdrops
   'Ere the heat of the noonday.

Now the spell-time it is over,
   They to work again must go,
Like a band of sturdy soldiers,
   Setting forth to meet a foe.

Now the evening shades are closing,
   Homeward see the reapers steer,
Wash their sunburnt hands and faces,
   Then partake their evening cheer.

God of goodness, we would thank thee
   For thy gifts in times gone by,   
And for this abundant harvest
   We would waft thy praises high.

First published in The Queanbeyan Age, 6 January 1874

Author: the actual identity of "J. G." is unknown at this time.

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on January 6, 2011 8:23 AM.

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