The Harvest Moon by Ted Hughes

The flame-red moon, the harvest moon,



Rolls along the hills, gently bouncing,


A vast balloon,


Till it takes off, and sinks upward


To lie on the bottom of the sky, like a gold doubloon.


The harvest moon has come,


Booming softly through heaven, like a bassoon.


And the earth replies all night, like a deep drum.






So people can't sleep,


So they go out where elms and oak trees keep


A kneeling vigil, in a religious hush.


The harvest moon has come!






And all the moonlit cows and all the sheep


Stare up at her petrified, while she swells


Filling heaven, as if red hot, and sailing


Closer and closer like the end of the world.






Till the gold fields of stiff wheat


Cry `We are ripe, reap us!' and the rivers


Sweat from the melting hills.