Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
Thomas Hood. 17981845652. Ruth
SHE stood breast-high amid the corn, | |
Clasp’d by the golden light of morn, | |
Like the sweetheart of the sun, | |
Who many a glowing kiss had won. | |
On her cheek an autumn flush, | 5 |
Deeply ripen’d;—such a blush | |
In the midst of brown was born, | |
Like red poppies grown with corn. | |
Round her eyes her tresses fell, | |
Which were blackest none could tell, | 10 |
But long lashes veil’d a light, | |
That had else been all too bright. | |
And her hat, with shady brim, | |
Made her tressy forehead dim; | |
Thus she stood amid the stooks, | 15 |
Praising God with sweetest looks:— | |
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. | 20 |