88 



Eiit -when misguided, •when he gives full sway. 

 To vague abstractions, what the books may say, 

 Without some practice, lessons from his toil. 

 There comes uncalled a fearful, sad recoil : 

 Instead of harvests that his brain had planned, 

 His barns o'erflowing, and his cash in hand ; 

 His vacant rafters, and his puny purse. 

 His field of witch-grass, or of something worse, 

 In troubled visions fly into his face, 

 In fiendish glee to tell of his disgrace ; 

 While to the winds his hopes, his joys are thrown; 

 His labor lost, his bird of promise liown. 



The farmer yet presents a higher type, 

 A thrifty tiller, with a mind that's ripe 

 In useful knowledge, though our praise is meet 

 For him, we feel that he is not complete. 

 As nature's steward, at whose kind behest 

 He sows and reaps, and all his labor 's blest; 

 Whose laws he studies, and whose beauties shed 

 A kindly presence ever round his head; 

 If there 's not kindled in his breast a love 

 For nature, and for nature's God above ; 

 It' there 's no answer from the life within 

 To nature's whispers, nought but worldly din ; 

 No deep emotion, no uplifting power, 

 Enkindled by the scene at sunset hour, 

 At early dawn, at dewy, star-lit eve, 

 At noon, at all times, if the thought he give. 

 The pine trees sigh it, and the flowers repeat, 

 " There 's something wanting, thou art incomplete." 

 But, when awakened, he to nature turns, 

 While he is musing, lo ! the fire burns ; 

 Each varied scene of homely rural life 

 Throws oiF its mantle dull of worldly strife, 

 And shines serene, and sends its quickening ray 

 To bid him share in nature's harmony. 



This is our model, nature's nobleman ; 

 Whose life is truth, truth in his ev'ry plan. 

 True to his business, and its great demands ; 

 True to himself, his heart, his mind, his hands ; 

 True to his neighbor, true unto his God ; 

 True to his home, the land his feet have trod ; 

 Ay, true to country in its hour of need, 

 When traitors battle and when patriots bleed; 

 The farmer of to-day must surely stand 

 The hope, the pillar of his native land. 

 The giant West, a granary for the world. 

 Against the foe has myriad farmers hurled; 

 And bleeding hearts, and sad, expressive sighs, 

 Tell that we too have felt war's agonies. 

 Farmers, to-day we '11 pledge our lives, our all. 

 For country ; let her make her welcome call 1 

 And in these days of conflict sad to see, 

 The patriot farmer shall our model be. 



