2 min read
Слушать

The Harvest Moon

The flame-red moon, the harvest moon,

Rolls along the hills, gently bouncing,

A vast balloon,

Till it takes off, and sinks

To lie on the bottom of the sky, like a gold doubloon.

The harvest moon has come,

Booming softly through heaven, like a bassoon.

And the earth replies all night, like a deep drum.

So people can't sleep,

So they go out where elms and oak trees keepA kneeling vigil, in a religious hush.

The harvest moon has come!

And all the moonlit cows and all the

Stare up at her petrified, while she

Filling heaven, as if red hot, and

Closer and closer like the end of the world.

Till the gold fields of stiff

Cry `We are ripe, reap us!' and the

Sweat from the melting hills.

0
0
216
Give Award

Ted Hughes

Edward James Hughes OM OBE FRSL (17 August 1930 – 28 October 1998) was an English poet, translator, and children's writer. Critics frequently ra…

Other author posts

Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments

Reading today

Ryfma
Ryfma is a social app for writers and readers. Publish books, stories, fanfics, poems and get paid for your work. The friendly and free way for fans to support your work for the price of a coffee
© 2024 Ryfma. All rights reserved 12+