The Harvest Moon

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!

Ted Hughes