64 AGRICULTURE AND RURAL-LIFE DAY, 



Chorus : 



The old oaken bucket. 

 The iron-bound bucket. 

 The moss-covered bucket, 



That hung in the well. 



—Samuel Woodworth. 



WORK, FOR THE NIGHT IS COMING. 



Work, for the night is coming. 



Work thro' the morning hours; 

 Work while the dew is sparkling, 



Work 'mid springing flowers; 

 Work when the day grows brighter. 



Work in the glowing sun ; 

 Work, for the night is coming, 



When man's work is done. 



Work, for the night is coming. 



Work through the sunny noon ; 

 Fill brightest hours with labor. 



Rest comes sure and soon. 

 Give every flying minute 



Something to keep in store; 

 Work, for the night is coming, 



When man works no more. 



— Annie L. Walker. 



HOME, SWEET HOME. 



'JNIid pleasures and i)alaces though we may roam. 



Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home; 



A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there, 



AVhich. seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere. 



Home, home, sweet, sweet home I 

 There's no place like home ! there's no place like home ! 



An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain; 



O, give nie my lowly thatched cottage again ! 



The birds 'singing gayly, that came at my call. — 



Give me them. — and the peace of mind, dearer than all ! 



Home, home, sweet, sweet home ! 

 There's no place like home ! there's no place like home ! 



To thee I'll return, overburdened with care; 

 The heart's dearest solace will smile on me there; 

 No more from that cottage again will I roam ; 

 Be it ever so humble, thei'e's no place like home. 



Home ! home ! sweet, sweet home ! 

 There's no ]>lace like home! there's no place like home! 



— John Howard Payne. 



