The Harvest Poem by Aristophanes
The Harvest
Oh, 'tis sweet, when fields are ringing
With the merry cricket's singing,
Oft to mark with curious eye
If the vine-tree's time be nigh:
Here is now the fruit whose birth
Cost a throe to Mother Earth.
Sweet it is, too, to be telling,
How the luscious figs are swelling;
Then to riot without measure
In the rich, nectareous treasure,
While our grateful voices chime,--
Happy season! blessed time.
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4/24/2024 9:06:19 PM # 1.0.0.1119
great- In the rich, nectareous treasure, While our grateful voices chime, - Happy season! blessed time.....