Blue-berries

When with the summer sun afar And earth is filled with dew, There comes a harvest, sweet and warm, To pluck as sky drops blue.

With each ripe berry, in hand so free, A String of like jewels twinkling slightly, Then gather once more a waft from the sea, To echo a tune of delight nightly.

The summer gold in the evening’s glow, Pushing through, ever beyond, The velvet embrace where shadows grow, Gives room to dreams unbroken, fond.

And when the long day’s gone to rest, The berries hush their tale, And hold as precious a fleeting guest Only through twilight pale.

• Thomas Hardy