American Thanksgiving

Summer ends now; now, barbarous in beauty, the stooks arise

Around; up above, what wind-walks! what lovely

behaviour

Of silk-sack clouds! has wilder, wilful-wavier

Meal-drift moulded ever and melted across skies?

I walk, I lift up, I lift up heart, eyes,

Down all that glory in the heavens to glean our

Saviour;

And, éyes, heárt, what looks, what lips yet gave you a

Rapturous love's greeting of realer, of rounder replies?

And the azurous hung hills are his world-wielding

shoulder

Majestic—as a stallion stalwart, very-violet-sweet!—

These things, these things were here and but the

beholder

Wanting; which two when they once meet,

The heart rears wings bold and bolder

And hurls for him,

O half hurls earth for him off under

his feet.

- "Hurrahing in the Harvest", Gerard Manley Hopkins