DANVIS FARM LITE 



Poets have sung the delights of the farmer's life 

 in strains so enchanting that one might wonder 

 why all the world has not forsaken every other 

 pursuit and betaken itself to the tilling of the soil. 

 But the farmer himself, in the unshaded hay-field, 

 or plodding in the clayey furrow at the tail of his 

 plough, with a freeholder's right sticking to each 

 boot, or bending, with aching back, between the 

 corn-rows, or breasting the winter storms in the 

 performance of imperative duties, looks at his 

 life from a dijfferent point of view. To him this 

 life appears as full of toil and care and evil chances 

 as that of any other toiler. And true it is, the life 

 of an ordinary farmer is hard, with too little to 

 soften it — too much of work, too little of play. But 

 as true is what the poet sang so long ago: "Thrice 

 happy are the husbandmen if they could but see 

 their blessings"; for they have independence, 

 more than any others who by the sweat of the 

 brow earn their bread, and the pure air of heaven 

 to breathe, and the blessed privilege of daily com- 

 munion with nature. 



It is not easy for the farmer to see any beauty 

 in his enemies — the meadows full of daisies, with 

 which he is forever fightmg, or by which he has 



