Part 1 — RUTH
Reading edition
She stood breast high among the corn, Clasped by the golden light of morn, Like the sweetheart of the sun, Who many a glowing kiss had won.
On her cheek an autumn flush, Deeply ripened;—such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn.
Round her eyes her tresses fell, Which were blackest none could tell. But long lashes veiled a light, That had else been all too bright.
And her hat, with shady brim, Made her tressy forehead dim; Thus she stood amid the stooks, Praising God with sweetest looks:
Sure, I said, Heaven did not mean, Where I reap thou shouldst but glean; Lay thy sheaf adown and come, Share my harvest and my home.
Thomas Hood [1799-1845]