Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin, new reap’d, Showed like a stubble-land at harvest-home; He was perfumed like a milliner, And ’twixt his finger and his thumb he held A pouncet-box, which ever and anon He gave his nose, and took ’t away again.
The harvest-home or supper is a thing of the past. To those who feel the fascination of the past this may appear sad, but it is not so really for, even while it existed, this surface goodwill was often an empty show.flora thompson
The year of jubilee has come;Gather the gifts of Earth with equal hand;Henceforth ye too may share the birthright soil,The corn, the wine, and all the harvest-home.edmund clarence stedman
And his chin new reap'd, Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home.william shakespeare
The sunlight of a sunlit land, A land of fruit, of flowers, and A land of love and calm delight; A land where night is not like night, And noon is but a name for rest, And love for love is reckoned best. Where conversations of the eyes Are all enough; where beauty thrills The heart like hues of harvest-home; Where rage lies down, where passion dies, Where peace hath her abiding place. . . .joaquin miller