Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry. 1904.
III. The SeasonsHarvest Song
Ludwig Christoph Heinrich Hölty (17481776)From the German by Charles Timothy Brooks
S
On the ground
Fast the ripe ears fall;
Every maiden’s bonnet
Has blue blossoms on it:
Joy is over all.
Maidens sing
To the sickle’s sound;
Till the moon is beaming,
And the stubble gleaming,
Harvest songs go round.
All are singing,
Every lisping thing,
Man and master meet,
From one dish they eat;
Each is now a king.
Whet the sickle,
Piping merrily.
Now they mow; each maiden
Soon with sheaves is laden,
Busy as a bee.
And the kisses!
Now the wit doth flow
Till the beer is out;
Then, with song and shout,
Home they go, yo ho!