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fallow fields. Now, too, corn in the ear 

 hangs flint-hard nowhere any sap in stalk, 

 or root, or leaf. 



Come away to the gathering ! Not from 

 the shock. There, it is mere prosaic snatch- 

 ing of ear from husk, with by and by a noisy 

 rattle of wagons, a quick tossing in the 

 baldest commonplace of labor. Instead, 

 you shall go afield in standing corn cross- 

 ing to reach it wheat-land late sown, and 

 faintly pierced with tenderest, new, small 

 spears, each with a diamond on his tip, 

 stolen by this warm light from the vanish- 

 ing frost. Beyond is the first sowing a 

 green luxuriance, matted, dripping, thick 

 and tall enough to hide a rabbit a hun- 

 dred, indeed, if so many there sought refuge. 

 Now you come to the bars. See how snug 

 they are laid to one side, quite out the way 

 of wheels. Not till night drops down will 

 they rest again in socket. All day this 

 small, dark person of fluttering jacket and 

 baggy trousers will sit here "minding the 

 gap," presumably seeing to it that no va- 

 grant cow, no acquisitive hog, passes this 

 open portal to spoil the corn within. 



Monotonous, you think. He would hard- 

 ly agree. He has a knife with one real cut- 

 ting blade his bird-trap wants a trigger 



