And ripening waves of harvest rolled

Over our hills the realms of gold;

And flood-time mapped familiar lands

With island shores and foreign strands;

And tidings of unventured ways

We gathered in the darkening days

When leafless woods began to moan

And twilight opened gates unknown.{7}

{7}

A narrower, homelier world we knew

In winter time, and kinder grew

The sheltering bounds of landmarks old;

And, gathered within farm and fold,

The sound of voices and the stir

Of labour seemed the merrier

Because so lonely and so wide

And homeless was the world outside.

Then we discovered golden shores,

Our El Dorado’s treasure stores,

Amid the piled up sheaves of grain

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