What shines the light of harvest time;
our sacred moon's embrace,
Her glowing kiss, and silvery smile,
Her ever-watching face.
The light is golden: Harvest time,
The season hears it's knell,
I hope to be as brave as leaves,
the brightest 'fore they fell.
The time of light is passing quick
beneath a hill of gold,
And once green and tender shoots,
now wither from the cold.
I draw my cloak more tightly round:
guard my secrets from the wind,
And gather strength from Harvest's light,
And take the moonbeams in.
