Harvest Song. March.
E. R. LATTA.
JAS. L. ORR.
1. Grain that was in verdure waving,
Weareth now a hue of gold,
And the yellow heads are bending.
With the fruitage that they hold;
That the ripened fruit be gathered,
Speed the sickle to and fro;
For countless hosts of kernels,
Snowy loaves ere long will show.
Happily, happily while we may,
Beautiful melody wed to rhyme,
Gladness and gratitude feel today,
Welcome the harvest time.
2. Not in vain the task of plowing,
And the sowing of the seed,
For the wealth of golden kernels,
Shall supply the public need;
See the shocks as thickly scattered,
As the tents of soldier band;
Soon they shall be grandly builded,
Where the ricks shall tow'ring stand.
3. Soon from out of noisy thresher,
There shall golden streams be poured,
That the farmer's heart will gladden,
And shall bring his just reward;
Smiles the land today with plenty,
Plenty for the needy throng;
Let all classes and conditions,
Join to swell the harvest song.