Harvest Time

by Pauline Johnson

Pillowed and hushed on the silent plain, 
Wrapped in her mantle of golden grain, 

Wearied of pleasuring weeks away, 
Summer is lying asleep to-day,-- 

Where winds come sweet from the wild-rose briers 
And the smoke of the far-off prairie fires; 

Yellow her hair as the goldenrod, 
And brown her cheeks as the prairie sod; 

Purple her eyes as the mists that dream 
At the edge of some laggard sun-drowned stream; 

But over their depths the lashes sweep, 
For Summer is lying to-day asleep. 

The north wind kisses her rosy mouth, 
His rival frowns in the far-off south, 

And comes caressing her sunburnt cheek, 
And Summer awakes for one short week,-- 

Awakes and gathers her wealth of grain, 
Then sleeps and dreams for a year again. 

Emily Pauline Johnson (known in Mohawk as Tekahionwake –pronounced: dageh-eeon-wageh, literally: 'double-life') (10 March 1861 – 7 March 1913), popularly known as E. Pauline Johnson or just Pauline Johnson, was a Canadian writer and performer popular in the late 19th century. Johnson was notable for her poems and performances that celebrated her First Nations heritage; her father was a Mohawk chief of mixed ancestry, and her mother an English immigrant. One such poem is the frequently anthologized "The Song My Paddle Sings".

Her poetry was published in Canada, the United States and Great Britain. Johnson was one of a generation of widely read writers who began to define a Canadian literature. While her literary reputation declined after her death, since the later 20th century, there has been renewed interest in her life and works.       ~  taken from Wikipedia

Posted on October 7, 2015 and filed under Poetry & Quotes.