_Lord, I have seen at harvest festival In a white lamp-lit fishing-village church, How the poor folk, lacking fine decorations, Offer the first-fruits of their various toils: Not only fruit and blossom of the fields, Ripe corn and poppies, scabious, marguerites, Melons and marrows, carrots and potatoes, And pale round turnips and sweet cottage flowers, But gifts of other produce, heaped brown nets, Fine pollack, silver fish with umber backs, And handsome green-dark-blue-striped mackerel, And uglier, hornier creatures from the sea, Lobsters, long-clawed and eyed, and smooth flat crabs, Ranged with the flowers upon the window-niches, To lie in that symbolic contiguity While lusty hymns of grat…
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