Page:The ascent of man by Blind, Mathilde.djvu/138

126 Sam came a-courting while the year was blithe,
 * When wet browed mowers, stepping out in tune,

With level stroke and rhythmic swing of scythe,
 * Smote down the proud grass in the pomp of June,

And wagons, half-tipped over, seemed to sway With loads of hay.

The elder bush beside the orchard croft
 * Brimmed over with its bloom like curds and cream;

From out grey nests high in the granary loft
 * Black clusters of small heads with callow scream

Peered open-beaked, as swallows flashed along To feed their young.

Ripening towards the harvest swelled the wheat,
 * Lush cherries dangled 'gainst the latticed panes;

The roads were baking in the windless heat,
 * And dust had floured the glossy country lanes,

One sun-hushed, light-flushed Sunday afternoon The last of June.