Sure, I said, Heav'n did not mean,

Where I reap thou shouldst but glean,

Lay thy sheaf adown and come,

Share my harvest and my home.

[THE PLEA OF THE MIDSUMMER FAIRIES.][8]

I.

'Twas in that mellow season of the year

When the hot sun singes the yellow leaves

Till they be gold,—and with a broader sphere

The Moon looks down on Ceres and her sheaves;