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THE FARMER.
They see the sun sink slowly down
To gladden other lands,—
They feel night coming, and they sit
Serene, with close-clasped hands.
To gladden other lands,—
They feel night coming, and they sit
Serene, with close-clasped hands.
THE FARMER.
God's blessing rest upon the man
Who tills the bounteous land,
And strews the yellow grain broadcast
With free, ungrudging hand;
Who makes the barren moorland smile
With wheat and golden corn,
The verdant grass to spring, at will,
Where lurked the worthless thorn.
Who tills the bounteous land,
And strews the yellow grain broadcast
With free, ungrudging hand;
Who makes the barren moorland smile
With wheat and golden corn,
The verdant grass to spring, at will,
Where lurked the worthless thorn.
Oh, bless his toil with full success!
Let soft and gentle rains
Revive his thirsty pasture hills
And fertilize his plains!
And send the sunshine down to warm
The frosty breast of earth,
That crimson wealth of clover blooms
May spring to odorous birth!
Let soft and gentle rains
Revive his thirsty pasture hills
And fertilize his plains!
And send the sunshine down to warm
The frosty breast of earth,
That crimson wealth of clover blooms
May spring to odorous birth!
An independent life is his,
Fraught but with honest gains,—
Wrung not from pale-faced, widowed ones,
Or orphans' hunger pains.
Fraught but with honest gains,—
Wrung not from pale-faced, widowed ones,
Or orphans' hunger pains.
