DANVIS FARM LIFE 65 



the exhalations of sodden leaves and quickened 

 earth, with the faint perfume of the shad trees, 

 shining white with blossoms, as if snow-laden in 

 the purple woods, and the willow catkins that 

 gleam in swamps and along the brimming streams. 

 It is a purely springlike odor. 



The fields of winter wheat and rye, if the snow 

 has kindly covered them through the bitter 

 weather, take on a fresher green, and the south- 

 ern slopes of pasture-lands and the swales show 

 tinges of it. 



The sower is pacing the fall-ploughed ground 

 to and fro with measured tread, scattering the 

 seed as he goes, and, after him, team and harrow 

 scratch the mould. In favored places the ploughs 

 are going, first streaking, then broadly patching, 

 the somber fields with the rich hue of freshly 

 turned sward. Then early potatoes are planted, 

 gardens made, corn-ground made ready, and 

 houses unbanked, letting daylight into cellars 

 once more. 



All day long the lamentations of bereaved cows 

 are heard. "Settings" of milk begin to crowd the 

 dairy, and churning, that plague of the boy, be- 

 comes his constant alternate dread and suffering. 



As pastures grow green the sheep are "tagged" 

 and released from their long confinement in shed 

 and yard. With loud rejoicings they go rushing 

 along the lane to the pasture, eager for the first 



