Summary: A Big Valley poem.
Genre: Blank verse
Word Count: 190
When the hands come to harvest at the seasons end;
When the trials are done for, and the battles are won;
When the Spring rains are over, and the Summer’s storms run dry;
Then will the tears begin to flow.
Through tribulations and jubilation, steadfast have all been.
And now, at the time when the harvest hands come,
Now with all the battles lost and won,
Now comes the parting of all from one.
The tears form rivers that water the earth,
And bring with them new life and rebirth.
Although there is sorrow and wailing,
Even though a good friend and companion is lost,
While the world seems less beautiful, and life less worth living
When the harvest hands come,
Remember: the good of the harvest is not wasted.
It is gathered and made perfect.
All thanks to the Harvester and His harvesting hands;
All thanks for the season of growing, all thanks for the reaping as well;
All thanks for the time we have spent together;
And all thanks for when we’ll meet again.