To the Harvest Moon
Cum ruit imbriferum ver:Spicea jam campis cum messis inhorruit, et cumFrumenta in viridi stipula lactentia turgent.Cuncta tibi Cererem pubes agrestis adoret.
Moon of Harvest, herald mildOf plenty rustic labour's child,Hail! oh hail! I greet thy beam,As soft it trembles o'er the stream,And gilds the straw-thatch'd hamlet wide,Where Innocence and Peace reside!'Tis thou that gladd'st with joy the rustic throng,Promptest the tripping dance, the exhilarating song.
Moon of Harvest, I do loveO'er the uplands now to rove,While thy modest ray sereneGilds the wide surrounding scene;And to watch thee riding highIn the blue vault of the sky,Where no thin vapour intercepts thy ray,But in unclouded majesty thou walkest on thy way.
Pleasing 'tis, oh! modest Moon!Now the night is at her noon,'Neath thy sway to musing lie,While around the zephyrs sigh,Fanning soft the sun-tann'd wheat,Ripen'd by the summer's heat;Picturing all the rustic's joyWhen boundless plenty greets his eye,And thinking soon,Oh, modest Moon!How many a female eye will roamAlong the road,To see the load,The last dear load of harvest home.
Storms and tempests, floods and rains,Stern despoilers of the plains,Hence, away, the season flee,Foes to light-heart jollity:May no winds careering highDrive the clouds along the sky,But may all nature smile with aspect boon,When in the heavens thou show'st thy face, oh Harvest Moon!
'Neath yon lowly roof he lies,The husbandman, with deep-seal'd eyes:He dreams of crowded barns, and roundThe yard he hears the flail resound;Oh! may no hurricane destroyHis visionary views of joy!God of the winds! oh, hear his humble prayer,And while the Moon of Harvest shines, thy blustering whirlwind spare.
Sons of luxury, to youLeave I sleep's dull power to woo;Press ye still the downy bed,While feverish dreams surround your head;I will seek the woodland glade,Penetrate the thickest shade,Wrapp'd in contemplation's dreams,Musing high on holy themes,While on the galeShall softly sailThe nightingale's enchanting tune,And oft my eyesShall grateful riseTo thee, the modest Harvest Moon!
Words in this poem
- turgent a.
- Rising into a tumor, or a puffy state; swelling; tumid; as, turgent humors. [L. turgens, -entis, p. pr. of turgere to swell.]
- exhilarating a.
- That exhilarates; cheering; gladdening.
- vapour n.
- Any substance in the gaseous, or aëriform, state, the condition of which is ordinarily that of a liquid or solid. [OE. vapour, OF. vapour, vapor, vapeur, F. vapeur, L. vapor; probably for cvapor, and akin to Gr. kvepti to breathe, smell, Russ. kopote fine soot. Cf. Vapid.]
- boon n.
- A prayer or petition. [OE. bone, boin, a petition, fr. Icel. b; akin to Sw. & Dan. b, AS. b, and perh. to E. ban; but influenced by F. bon good, fr. L. bonus. Ban, Bounty.]
- husbandman n.
- The master of a family.
- glade n.
- An open passage through a wood; a grassy open or cleared space in a forest. [Prob. of Scand. origin, and akin to glad, a.; cf. also W. golead, goleuad, a lighting, illumination, fr. goleu light, clear, bright, goleu fwlch glade, lit., a ]
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
To the Harvest Moon is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Poetical Works of Henry Kirk White : With a Memoir by Sir Harris Nicolas, Project Gutenberg ebook #7149; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Henry Kirke White, To the Harvest Moon, in The Poetical Works of Henry Kirke White (1803–1806), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #7149, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/kirke-white-poems/to-the-harvest-moon.html, id L10111.
Form and metre
To the Harvest Moon is 64 lines in 7 verse paragraphs. It is in rhyming couplets, 75% of the lines: octosyllabic couplets. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 91%). 93% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.8 syllables. 2 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 23% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in octosyllabic couplets, other poems in iambic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 2 AABBCCDD mildA · childA · beamB · streamB · wideC · resideC · throngD · songD
- 3 AABBCCDD loveA · roveA · sereneB · sceneB · highC · skyC · rayD · wayD
- 4 AABBCC-BAADEED moonA · noonA · lieB · sighB · wheatC · heatC · joy · eyeB · soonA · moonA · roamD · roadE · loadE · homeD
- 5 AAB-BBCC rainsA · plainsA · fleeB · jollity · highB · skyB · boonC · moonC
- 6 AABBCCDD liesA · eyesA · roundB · resoundB · destroyC · joyC · prayerD · spareD
- 7 AABBCCDDEEFGGF youA · wooA · bedB · headB · gladeC · shadeC · dreamsD · themesD · galeE · sailE · tuneF · eyesG · riseG · moonF
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Cum ruit imbriferum ver: | 7 | ······· |
| Spicea jam campis cum messis inhorruit, et cum | 13 | ···/˘········ |
| Frumenta in viridi stipula lactentia turgent. | 15 | ·······/˘˘···/˘ |
| Cuncta tibi Cererem pubes agrestis adoret. | 15 | ··/····/˘˘/˘··· |
| Moon of Harvest, herald mild | 7 | ··/˘/˘· |
| Of plenty rustic labour's child, | 8 | ·/˘/˘/·· |
| Hail! oh hail! I greet thy beam, | 7 | ······· |
| As soft it trembles o'er the stream, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And gilds the straw-thatch'd hamlet wide, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Where Innocence and Peace reside! | 7 | ·/˘··˘/ |
| 'Tis thou that gladd'st with joy the rustic throng, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Promptest the tripping dance, the exhilarating song. | 13 | /˘·/˘··˘/˘·˘· |
| Moon of Harvest, I do love | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| O'er the uplands now to rove, | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| While thy modest ray serene | 7 | ··/˘·˘/ |
| Gilds the wide surrounding scene; | 7 | ···˘/˘· |
| And to watch thee riding high | 7 | ····/˘· |
| In the blue vault of the sky, | 7 | ······· |
| Where no thin vapour intercepts thy ray, | 10 | ···/˘·˘/·· |
| But in unclouded majesty thou walkest on thy way. | 13 | ·····/˘·/˘··· |
| Pleasing 'tis, oh! modest Moon! | 7 | /˘··/˘· |
| Now the night is at her noon, | 7 | ······· |
| 'Neath thy sway to musing lie, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| While around the zephyrs sigh, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Fanning soft the sun-tann'd wheat, | 7 | /˘····· |
| Ripen'd by the summer's heat; | 7 | /˘··/˘· |
| Picturing all the rustic's joy | 7 | /˘··/˘· |
| When boundless plenty greets his eye, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| And thinking soon, | 4 | ·/˘· |
| Oh, modest Moon! | 4 | ·/˘· |
| How many a female eye will roam | 8 | ·/·/···· |
| Along the road, | 4 | ˘/·· |
| To see the load, | 4 | ···· |
| The last dear load of harvest home. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Storms and tempests, floods and rains, | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| Stern despoilers of the plains, | 7 | ······· |
| Hence, away, the season flee, | 7 | ·˘/·/˘· |
| Foes to light-heart jollity: | 7 | ····/˘˘ |
| May no winds careering high | 7 | ···˘/˘· |
| Drive the clouds along the sky, | 7 | ···˘/·· |
| But may all nature smile with aspect boon, | 10 | ···/˘··/·· |
| When in the heavens thou show'st thy face, oh Harvest Moon! | 13 | ···/˘·····/˘· |
| 'Neath yon lowly roof he lies, | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| The husbandman, with deep-seal'd eyes: | 8 | ·/˘˘···· |
| He dreams of crowded barns, and round | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| The yard he hears the flail resound; | 8 | ·······/ |
| Oh! may no hurricane destroy | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| His visionary views of joy! | 8 | ·/˘·˘··· |
| God of the winds! oh, hear his humble prayer, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And while the Moon of Harvest shines, thy blustering whirlwind spare. | 14 | ·····/˘··/˘/·· |
| Sons of luxury, to you | 7 | ··/˘˘·· |
| Leave I sleep's dull power to woo; | 7 | ····/·· |
| Press ye still the downy bed, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| While feverish dreams surround your head; | 8 | ·/˘·˘/·· |
| I will seek the woodland glade, | 7 | ····/·· |
| Penetrate the thickest shade, | 7 | /˘··/˘· |
| Wrapp'd in contemplation's dreams, | 7 | ···˘/˘· |
| Musing high on holy themes, | 7 | /˘··/˘· |
| While on the gale | 4 | ···· |
| Shall softly sail | 4 | ·/˘· |
| The nightingale's enchanting tune, | 7 | ·/˘˘/˘· |
| And oft my eyes | 4 | ···· |
| Shall grateful rise | 4 | ·/˘· |
| To thee, the modest Harvest Moon! | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.