CORNGOLD

CORNGOLD

Indian Inks and acrylics on canvas with contemporary frame 35x45cm
SOLD

The flame-red moon, the harvest moon, 
Rolls along the hills, gently bouncing, 
A vast balloon, 
Till it takes off, and sinks upward 
To lie on the bottom of the sky, like a gold doubloon. 
The harvest moon has come, 
Booming softly through heaven, like a bassoon. 
And the earth replies all night, like a deep drum. 

So people can't sleep, 
So they go out where elms and oak trees keep 
A kneeling vigil, in a religious hush. 
The harvest moon has come! 

And all the moonlit cows and all the sheep 
Stare up at her petrified, while she swells 
Filling heaven, as if red hot, and sailing 
Closer and closer like the end of the world. 

Till the gold fields of stiff wheat 
Cry `We are ripe, reap us!' and the rivers 
Sweat from the melting hills.

The Harvest Moon by Ted Hughes (1930-1998) 
Ref:
Date:
Location:
Photographer:

CORNGOLD

Indian Inks and acrylics on canvas with contemporary frame 35x45cm
SOLD

The flame-red moon, the harvest moon, 
Rolls along the hills, gently bouncing, 
A vast balloon, 
Till it takes off, and sinks upward 
To lie on the bottom of the sky, like a gold doubloon. 
The harvest moon has come, 
Booming softly through heaven, like a bassoon. 
And the earth replies all night, like a deep drum. 

So people can't sleep, 
So they go out where elms and oak trees keep 
A kneeling vigil, in a religious hush. 
The harvest moon has come! 

And all the moonlit cows and all the sheep 
Stare up at her petrified, while she swells 
Filling heaven, as if red hot, and sailing 
Closer and closer like the end of the world. 

Till the gold fields of stiff wheat 
Cry `We are ripe, reap us!' and the rivers 
Sweat from the melting hills.

The Harvest Moon by Ted Hughes (1930-1998) 
Ref:
Date:
Location:
Photographer: