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William Wordsworth

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The harvest of a quiet eye,
That broods and sleeps on his own heart.
--
Stanza 13.

 
William Wordsworth

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In the winter season,
For seven days of calm, Alcyone
Broods over her nest on the surface of the waters
While the sea-waves are quiet. Through this time
Aeolus keeps his winds at home, and ocean
Is smooth for his descendants' sake.

 
Ovid
 

The harvest truly is plenteous, but the labourers are few; Pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he will send forth labourers into his harvest.

 
Jesus Christ
 

On the island of New Georgia in the Solomons,
Stands a simple wooden cross alone to tell
That beneath the silent coral of the Solomons,
Sleeps a man, sleeps a man remembered well.

 
Frank Loesser
 

Stars of the summer night!
Far in yon azure deeps,
Hide, hide your golden light!
She sleeps!
My lady sleeps!

 
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
 

Now when the spirit in us wakes and broods,
Filled with home yearnings, drowsily it flings
From its deep heart high dreams and mystic moods,
Mixed with the memory of the loved earth things;
Clothing the vast with a familiar face;
Reaching its right hand forth to greet the starry race.

 
George William Russell
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