In Moreland vale brown Autumn's tilth,
Impatient waits the reaper's scythe:
Where, scattered with a bounteous hand,
Luxuriant harvests thickly stand.
The sunlight bathes the waving grain,
That sweetly smiles to sun again;
The landscape lies in green and gold,
And purple clouds in ether rolled,
Or gentle blue now smile above
This earthly scene of Eden love.