Cleared The Cornfield, Bare The Boughs Are

Cleared the cornfield, bare the boughs are, From still waters mist is rolling, Like а wheel beyond the mountains Has the silent sun gone bowling. Dozing is the cart track yonder. In а daydream it is thinking One won't have to wait much longer For the coming of grey winter. Yesterday as mist came creeping Did not I see in the darkness Like а foal the bay moon leaping Into our snow sledge's harness?