V i)E M . 



A lesson here for us, oh, gentle friends ! 

 Though, in good sooth, whoe'er obedient lends 

 A listening ear in nature's patient school, 

 Will shape his life by many a wholesome rule 

 Not chronicled in books — and therefore we, 

 Tillers of earth, who all her secrets see 

 As well as hear, what patterns we should be ! 



But this by way of prelude to a strain 

 Which, though but rudely sung, yet hopes to gain 

 Your ears attentive, — though we all agree 

 The theme's but hackneyed ; — naithless, come with me 

 Down this rude lane ablaze with golden rod 

 And fresh with fragrance from the up-turned sod, 

 To where yon farm-house lifts its modest head, 

 By peace, content and health inhabited. 

 The tranquil kine, reposing in the grass, 

 Turn dreamy eyes upon us as we pass ; 

 The shy sheep gaze askance, and chanticleer 

 Disturbs the silence with a lusty cheer 

 From the far barn-yard : sights and sounds are these 

 To make the saddest cheerful and at ease. 

 How full the quiet spot of sweet perfumes, 

 Aromas of fresh grass and clover-blooms ! 

 How like a sabbath stillness, or like prayer, 

 The cloistered calm of this sequestered air ! 



Anon the swinging scythe perchance is heard ; 

 Anon the sacred, sabbath calm is stirred 

 By sounding flail or woodman's axe anear, 

 Reechoing through the forest sharp and clear : 

 The dim, old forest, where the children go 

 A nutting when the leaves are all aglow 

 Beneath the frost-kings touch. Such merry routs 

 The little people tell of thereabouts ! 

 And then the huskings and the apple-bees, 

 The pleasant picnics underneath the trees, — 

 What city belle can boast such joys as these ? 



But not outside the modest farm-house dwells 

 Its sweetest charm ; that quiet roof-tree tells 

 Of love and trust beneath its humble dome, 



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