“And the ripe harvest of the new-mown hay
Gives it a sweet and wholesome odour.”

Act V, scene 3.
Richard III (altered) (1700)

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Colley Cibber26

British poet laureate 1671–1757

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Misattributed

“One of the limits of reality
Presents itself in Oley when the hay,
Baked through long days, is piled in mows. It is
A land too ripe for enigmas, too serene.…”

Wallace Stevens (1879–1955) American poet

"Credences of Summer"
Collected Poems (1954)
Context: One of the limits of reality
Presents itself in Oley when the hay,
Baked through long days, is piled in mows. It is
A land too ripe for enigmas, too serene.…
Things stop in that direction and since they stop
The direction stops and we accept what is
As good. The utmost must be good and is…