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|0 walk with the breeze upon one's brow, to trample the level grass exuberant with freshness, to climb upon the mountain, to follow through the meadows some thread of water gliding under rushes and water-plants,—I give you my word for it, there is happiness in this. At this contact with healthy and natural things, the follies of the world drop off as drop the dead leaves when the spring sap rises and the young leaves put forth.
No helpmates teach the docile steed his road
(Alike unknown the ploughboy and the goad):
But unassisted, through each toilsome day,
With smiling brow the ploug'xman cleaves his way.
Draws his fresh parallels, and, widening still.
Treads slow the heavy dale, or climbs the hill.
Strong on the wing his busy followers play.
Where writhing earthworms meet the unwelcome day,
Till all is changed, and hill and level down
Assume a livery of sober brown;
Again disturbed, when Giles with weaning strides
From ridge to ridge the ponderous harrow guides.
His heels deep sinking, every step he goes,
Till dirt adhesive loads his clouted shoes.
The work is done; no more to man is given: The grateful farmer trusts the rest to Heaven. ******
His simple errand done, he homeward hies;
For pigs and ducks and turkeys throng the door.
Down the rich pasture heedlessly they graze,
Its tempting fragrance, nor its wintry store.
A promised nutriment for autumn's seed.
Forth comes the maid, and like the morning smiles;
The mistress, too, and followed close by Giles.
A friendly tripod forms their humble seat.
With pails bright scoured and delicately sweet.
Where shadowing elms obstruct the morning ray
Begins the work, begins the simple lay;
The full-charged udder yields its willing stream
While Mary sings some lover's amorous dream;
And crouching Giles, beneath a neighboring tree,
Tugs o'er his pail and chants with equal glee;
Whose hat with battered brim, and nap so bare,
From the cow's side purloins a coat of hair,—
A mottled ensign of his harmless trade,
An unambitious, peaceable cockade.
As unambitious, too, that cheerful aid
The mistress yields beside her rosy maid;
With joy she views her plenteous reeking store,
And bears a brimmer to the dairy door;
Her cows dismissed, the luscious mead to roam,
Till eve again recall them loaded home.
|?V~ER the hills the farm-boy goes.
The early dews are falling; —
"Co', boss! co', boss! co'I co'! *'
Into the yard the farmer goes,
With grateful heart, at the close of day;
Harness and chain are hung away;
In the wagon-shed stand yoke and plough;
The straw's in the stack, the hay in the mow,
The cooling dews are falling; —
His cattle calling. —
Now to her task the milkmaid goes.
The cattle come crowding through the gate,
Lowing, pushing, little and great;
About the trough, by the farm-yard pump,
The frolicsome yearlings frisk and jump.
While the pleasant dews arc falling;
Saying, "So! so, boss! so! so!"
To supper at last the farmer goes,
The heavy dews are falling.
Singing, calling, —
Murmuring. -'So, boss! so!"
John Townsend Trowbridge.
LOVE, I love to see
Bright steel gleam through the land: "lis a goodly sight, but. it must be
Iu the reaper's tawny hand.
The helmet and the spear
Are twined with the laurel wreath: But the trophy is wet witli the orphan's tear;
And blood-spots rust beneath.
I love to see the field
That is moist with purple stain,
Lie strewn with the gory slain.
"So, no; 'tis where the sun
Till rich and bursting juice-drops run
My glowing heart beats high
At the sight of shining gold:
Delighteth to behold.
A brighter wealth by far
Is seen around in the fair hills crowned
Look forth thou thoughtless one.
Whose proud knee never bends;
But think on Him who sends.
Look forth, ye toiling men,
Though little ye possess, —
To make that little less.
Let the song of praise be poured
In gratitude and joy,
And the ragged gleaner-boy.
The feast that Nature gives
Is not for one alone;
And the tenant of a throne.
Then glory to the steel
That shines in the reaper's hand,
And crowned the harvest laud.
TITE FARMER'S WIFE.
Demure, arch humor's ambush in
I love to mark her matron charms,
Her fearless steps through household ways, Her sun-burnt hands and buxom arms.
Her waist unbound by torturing stays:
Homeward (his daily labors done)
From battling, between shade and sun.
Her welcome on his spirit bowed
Is sunshine dashing on a cloud!