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C.D. Warner, et al., comp.  The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes.  1917.
 
Ruth
By Thomas Hood (1799–1845)
 
SHE stood breast-high amid 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        5
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:        10
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,        15
Praising God with sweetest looks.
 
Sure, I said, heaven did not mean
Where I reap thou shouldst but glean:
Lay they sheaf adown and come,
Share my harvest and my home.        20
 
 
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