Come up from the Fields, Father.
1 COME up from the fields, father, here’s a letter from our Pete; And come to the front door, mother—here’s a letter from thy dear...
This is a poetry & verse.
1 COME up from the fields, father, here’s a letter from our Pete; And come to the front door, mother—here’s a letter from thy dear son. 2 Lo, ’tis autumn; Lo, where the trees, deeper green, yellower and redder, Cool and sweeten Ohio’s villages, with leaves fluttering in the moderate wind; Where apples ripe in the orchards hang, and grapes on the trellis’d vines; (Smell you the smell of the grapes on the vines?…
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