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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=577916" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Quiet Harvest</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=577916" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">WITHIN a thicket ere the sun <br>Was up, I heard a whisper run. <br>Each bush and tree was bidding, now, <br>Its yellow leaves forsake the bough. <br>And each leaf, having had its day, <br>Stepped down to earth the shortest way. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=577916" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">In April budding on the tree; <br>In hot July full-blown and free; <br>October bids them no more be. <br>I had, I think, as fair a spring; <br>July let equal fortune bring; <br>God give as quiet harvesting.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Philip+Henry+Savage">Philip Henry Savage</a></strong></div>

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