江河从融化的山脉上流下。
The f-red oon， the harvest oon，
Rolls along the hills， gently bouncg，
A vast balloon，
Till it takes off， and sks uard
To lie oto of the sky， like a gold doubloon.
The harvest oon has e，
Boog softly through heaven， like a bassoon.
And the earth replies all night， like a deep dru.
So people t sleep，
So they go out where els and oak trees keep
A kneelg vigil，a religio hh.
The harvest oon has e！
And all the oonlit ws and all the sheep
Stare up at her petrified， while she swells
Fillg heaven， as if red hot， and sailg
Closer and closer like the end of the world.
Till the gold fields of stiff wheat
Cry We are ripe， reap ！and the rivers
Sweat fro the ltg hills.