Harvest Home Poem by John F. McCullagh
Harvest Home
The corn is crowned with flowers
as harvest's end draw near.
Men and Women, Lads and maids
all raise a rousing cheer.
Pile high the wagon with the fruits
of Ceres Golden Horn.
The fortune of the fields is ours
for now is Harvest Home.
Saturday, October 19, 2013
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
The pagan Fall festival of our agrarian ancestors
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4/19/2024 3:34:35 PM # 1.0.0.1119
