Poem by Thomas Tusser

The End of Harvest

Come home, lord, singing, ['Harvest Lord,' or foreman]
Come home, corn bringing.
'Tis merry in hall,
Where beards wag all.
Once had thy desire,
Pay workman his hire:
Let none be beguil'd,
Man, woman, nor child.
Thank God ye shall,
And adieu for all. 

1. A Description of the Properties
2. On Thriftiness
3. Iulies Abstract
4. September
5. Directions for Cultivating a Hop-Garden

Helen Jackson The End of Harvest ("O Love, who walkest slow among my sheaves")

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