The Song of the Sower

Contents:
Author: William Cullen Bryant  | Date: 1858

I

The maples redden in the sun;

In autumn gold the beeches stand;

Rest, faithful plough, thy work is done

Upon the teeming land.

Bordered with trees whose gay leaves fly

On every breath that sweeps the sky,

The fresh dark acres furrowed lie,

And ask the sower’s hand.

Loose the tired steer and let him go

To pasture where the gentians blow,

And we, who till the grateful ground,

Fling we the golden shower around.

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Chicago: William Cullen Bryant, "I," The Song of the Sower Original Sources, accessed July 24, 2024, http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=4YI4ILNL8QUBTZY.

MLA: Bryant, William Cullen. "I." The Song of the Sower, Original Sources. 24 Jul. 2024. http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=4YI4ILNL8QUBTZY.

Harvard: Bryant, WC, 'I' in The Song of the Sower. Original Sources, retrieved 24 July 2024, from http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=4YI4ILNL8QUBTZY.