The thankful receiver bears a plentiful harvest.

So holy and so perfect is my love, And I in such a poverty of grace, That I shall think it a most plenteous crop To glean the broken ears after the man That the main harvest reaps.

Of all the plagues a lover bears,Sure rivals are the worst!

He HAD to move to receiver.

He that observeth the wind shall not sow; and he that regardeth the clouds shall not reap.

Fancy with prophetic glance Sees the teeming months advance; The field, the forest, green and gay; The dappled slope, the tedded hay; Sees the reddening orchard blow, The Harvest wave, the vintage flow.