To a Red-Wheat Field

O rich red wheat! thou wilt not long defer
Thy beauty, though thou art not wholly grown;
The fair blue distance and the moorland fir
Long for thy golden laughter! Four years gone,
How oft! with eager foot, I scaled the top
Of this long rise, to give mine eye full range;
And, now again, rotation brings the change
From seeds and clover, to my favourite crop;
How oft I've watch'd thee from my garden, charm'd
With thy noon-stillness, or thy morning tears!
Or, when the wind clove and the sunset warm'd
Thine amber-shafted depths and russet ears;
O! all ye cool green stems! improve the time,
Fulfil your beauty! justify my rhyme!